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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27554386">DBD One-Shots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkBellPepper/pseuds/PinkBellPepper'>PinkBellPepper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead by Daylight (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Bad Touch, Chains, Creampie, Cuddling, Cum Eating, Dirty Talk, Drooling, Dry Humping, Dwight in a dress, Electricity Kink, Facials, Forced Handjob, Fully clothed Jake Park, Ghostface being a pervert, Glove Kink, Jake is turned into a crow boy, M/M, Manipulation, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Sexual Harassment, Stalking, Stuck In A Hole, Victim Blaming, always taking suggestions, bad David, blowjob, crow!Jake, forced to cum, handjob, humping a leg, locker sex, naked Dwight, noncon, office harassment, soul mates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:34:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27554386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkBellPepper/pseuds/PinkBellPepper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(ALWAYS ACCEPTING PROMPTS)<br/>Just a place to store all my one-shot ideas for Dead by Daylight. This is mostly going to be non-con, male x male stuff. I love writing other people's pairings and ideas, so feel free to comment below! I'll always credit ideas.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dwight Fairfield/Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face, Dwight Fairfield/David King, Dwight Fairfield/Jason Voorhees, Dwight Fairfield/Lazar, Frank Morrison/Quentin Smith, Herman Carter | The Doctor/Frank Morrison, Jake Park/Caleb Quinn | The Deathslinger, Joey/Frank Morrison, Joey/The Doctor, Kenneth "Jeffrey Hawk" Chase | The Clown/Jake Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>190</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Bad David!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dwight gets stuck and David takes advantage.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Oh shit," Dwight cursed. "Of course this would happen to me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was stuck. Stuck and vulnerable with Leatherface running around. The chainsaw buzzed somewhere across the map. The killer was busy chasing someone. Dwight hurriedly tried to push himself through the wall, stuck halfway inside with his ass and legs hanging outside. His upper half was wedge through a small hole he'd been trying to use to enter the building. The dilapidated wood had collapsed under his weight and pinned his back. It hurt, and Dwight couldn't dislodge himself no matter how hard he shoved and pushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked around for a teammate, spotting a yellow silhouette slinking on the other side of the building. Dwight chanced shouting for help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"H-hey! Over here!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silhouette drew closer after a pause. Dwight watched him round the building, walking towards his hanging backside. It was David. Dwight grumbled under his breath as he heard the man laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, yeah, hilarious," Dwight snapped. "Can you help me? I'm stuck."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?" David asked. "Stuck? As in, can't move a muscle?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If I could move, I wouldn't be just hanging out here!" Dwight whined. He had to stand on his tippy-toes to keep his gut from hurting too much. His legs were starting to ache. "So, can you help?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, hehe," David chuckled. "I think I can help ya out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight squealed as David suddenly slapped his ass. Sharp and hard. Dwight kicked out in surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"David! What the hell was that for!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry, Dwight. I gotcha." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand settled on his ass, rubbing. Dwight's senses warned him of danger, and he tried to kick out at David to get him away. Strong arms gripped his legs, pulling them apart. A hard, clothed bulge rubbed against his ass. Dwight choked on a scream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"D-David! David, stop! What are you doing!?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just having a bit a'fun," David quipped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight's pants were yanked down swiftly. The cold air made him whimper, almost as much as the fingers that pulled apart his cheeks. He tried to jerk away. David chuckled again and squeezed his flesh with bruising thumbs. He spit onto the twitching hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'd prepare ya a bit more," David said, unzipping himself. "But like you said, we ain't got much time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight gasped at the hot meat that slid in between his ass. It was throbbing in eager anticipation. Dwight's struggles renewed. David's grip on his legs were like steel, though. More spit was slathered onto his hole. David stuck a harsh finger inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please, p-please, David, I'm begging you, d-don't d-do this!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It'll be over soon," David said, not phased in the least. His finger came out, replaced with something much bigger. He thrust forward. His dick slid between Dwight's cheeks and it made him throw his head back in a groan. "Oh fuck, I haven't had a lay in a bloody lifetime."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"David! Please!" Dwight was sobbing now. He stopped fighting, but his heart raced like a jackrabbit's. He had trusted David. Trusted him with everything he had. "I'm your friend!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Friends help friends out, don't they?" David asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paid no mind to Dwight's pleading. He just lined himself up and shoved the head of his cock inside. Dwight gasped, flailing a bit at the pressure. David kept sinking in. He was grinning wide, a satisfied gleam in his eye as he surveyed his disappearing dick. Dwight stretched around him nicely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah~</span>
  </em>
  <span> fuck. You fuck yourself with your fingers, don'tcha, Dwight?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop! Stop, stop, stop-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Were ya thinking of me while you did it?" David asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sunk lower, building a pace. It was a little dry, but nothing he couldn't handle. The pleasure was almost too much. Overwhelming. David's hips rammed into Dwight's ass, his balls slapping the others in fierce excitement.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, I bet you've thought of this. Probably got yourself stuck just for me, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight had lost his ability to speak. He heard Meg scream as she was hooked in the distance. David heard it too. He picked up his pace, almost animalistic as he dug his nails into Dwight's hips. He slapped his cheeks, hard enough to bruise. Then, with a stuttering thrust, he came. He slumped into Dwight's ass, hands up to hold himself against the wall. His cock slowly went soft, slipping free and allowing cum to dribble down Dwight's trembling legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh fuck. No way!" David crowed. He knelt down to get a better look. It wasn't just his cum down there. Dwight's dick gave a twitch, spent. David gave it a playful tug, eliciting a defeated moan from the other. Pride swelled in his chest. "I made you cum from my cock alone?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"David..." Dwight whined. "Please..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, alright," David pulled back with an annoyed sigh. "Can't let me enjoy anything with your nagging, can ya?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight held in another sob in response. He only cried out when David grabbed his hips again and gave him a hearty tug. Dwight popped free, but not without some rough scratches. He hurriedly pulled up his pants, jumping away from David who had tried to take his hands. The brit gave him a frustrated glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, come on, Dwight. Stop being a baby. We gotta go fix the last gen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You- you used me!" Dwight shouted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was just havin' some fun! You obviously enjoyed it too," he said, flicking a finger to his crotch. Dwight covered himself, face red and tears streaking his cheek. When he heard Meg scream behind him, being sacrificed to The Entity, he looked back in shock. He turned to David, pissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We could have saved her!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If ya pulled your pants up fast enough, maybe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Y-you- you r-r-r-ap-p-ped me!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I didn't," David scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You got off too, didn't you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I- I don't - I don't-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stammered for something to say, at a loss. He was suddenly unsure. The approaching hum of a chainsaw gave him no time to sort through his warring thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Next time, don't waste our time getting stuck," David said, already heading towards a hiding spot. "And don't put yourself in a situation ya ain't prepared for. You were asking for it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't ask..." But there was no time to argue. Dwight clamped his mouth shut and followed, too scared to be alone. And as they found a gen, and he worked by the other survivor, he only had one thought:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did I? </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Dress for Dwight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thanks to @Kamakura for the idea!<br/>"Can i please request Dwight x ghostface? where dwight is in a skirt/dress?"</p><p>Yes, yes you can!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crawling through the damp grass, Dwight tried to be silent as he made his way towards a locker. The moon shone over AutoHaven, giving him just enough low light to see the black robes of Ghostface slink by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The killer was several feet away, vigorously searching for the last survivor. He’d already killed the other three, and yet, no count down had started. The hatch hadn’t appeared and the exit gates refused to be powered on. Dwight didn’t understand it, but he was stuck, and with no means of escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart thundered in his chest as he watched Ghostface disappear. Dwight crawled towards dull, red wood. He felt silly, slipping between the doors and quietly hunching down in the dark. But Dwight didn’t know what else to do. He held his head in his hands and waited for the inevitable. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Entity must really want me to die today…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That thought didn’t help his poor heart. The organ nearly squeezed itself into cardiac arrest when, at the same time, the doors flung open. Ghostface stared down at the wide-eyed survivor, head tilting slightly as he took in the shivering limbs. Tears ran down his cheeks as he hyperventilated. He felt so pathetic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there, Dwightie,” Ghostface chuckled fondly. “Do I still work ya up that much? I’m flattered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knife twirled and stuck in the wood by Dwight’s head. He was still, wide eyed and choking on a scream before he was yanked from the locker and thrown over a shoulder. He didn’t struggle. He just wanted to go back to the campfire and get a hug from Nea. He whimpered as he was taken towards the killer shack, where the basement was. Basement sacrifices always hurt a little more. Always took a little longer. His legs kicked out weakly, more in panic than any real attempt to get away. Ghostface laughed and gave his ass a few pats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patience. I ain’t hooking you yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The survivor’s head popped up. His hands scrabbled at the back of the killer’s robes, trying and failing to push himself up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what? What d-do you m-mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, let’s just say I have something in store,” Ghosface began conversationally, walking down the dark steps. “If I told you, it’d ruin the surprise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight yelped as he was dropped. He fell to the basement floor, rolling onto his back to scramble away. Ghostface grabbed his ankle and jerked him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make this good for you, too, but only if you stay put and don’t run,” the killer ordered playfully, bopping Dwight on the nose with a finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The survivor flinched but stayed on the ground. He watched his captor idly walk towards the chest in the back. Dwight didn’t even look at the stairway. Right before the lid opened, he shut his eyes tight enough to hurt, terrified of what kind of torture the killer was going to put him through. He started to tremble violently when footsteps drew near. Ghostface made a sharp whistling sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, lookie here what I got just for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight still didn’t open his eyes. A boot softly kicked his thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Dwight. It’s nothing that can hurt you, I promise.” He could hear the smile in the killer’s voice. He had come to know the dripping, honey-soaked words that came right before he was stabbed over and over and over. He shuddered, but forced his eyes open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight’s face went beet red. Ghostface was holding up a dress. A pink dress with blood splattered across the front and a pattern of small, blooming roses. The neck had a pearl button to hook the peter-pan collar together. Dwight fumbled in queasy embarrassment as the killer tossed it at him, ordering him to put it on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I... “ He floundered for something to say. Dwight didn’t understand. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knife flashed. Ghostface knelt down and tapped Dwight’s tear-streaked cheek with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I said so. So do what Daddy says, and strip. I’ll even be a pal and help you out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight scrambled back, breathing erratically as the knife lowered to his chest. He stilled when his ankle was snagged with a warningly painful grip. The blade hooked the bottom of his white dress shirt, sliding up the fabric from where it was tucked into his pants. It tore in half easily. Dwight started to cry as the rest of it was tossed, leaving him bare-chested. A gloved hand came to rub soothingly at the newly shown skin. Dwight closed his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open those pretty eyes. Look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight looked, tears still streaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, baby boy. Keep being good for me and I won’t give you a real reason to cry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A louder sob tore from his throat. Ghostface’s hands were hot where they lingered on his bare skin before pulling back. Dwight was ordered to strip once more, given the chance to remove his own pants. The survivor shakily did as he was told, struggling on the ground as he kicked them off. His socks and underwear were left on. Ghostface tutted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sweet thing, but it’s all gotta come off. Go on. The sooner it's gone, the sooner I can see you in your new outfit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Excitement licked at the killer’s words. His body was tense, eager, like he was ready to manhandle Dwight even if did comply. The poor survivor closed his eyes, and hooked a thumb in his drawers. They were tossed aside like his socks, leaving him frigid and bare. Ghostface whistled appreciatively, strolling around Dwight in slow, predatory steps. The cold was getting to him. Goosebumps and rising hairs made him shiver under the watchful gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy. Now put on your gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight sucked in a harsh breath, reaching down at the crumpled dress. It was surprisingly soft under his fingers, but scratchy and rough where the blood soaked through. His fingers fumbled with the zipper on the back. He was worried he’d bust it, he couldn’t get it down. Gloves fingers gently wrapped around his own trembling ones and gently tugged it. Then he lifted it over Dwight’s head, forcing his arms through the holes. Dwight’s glasses caught on the collar. He whined before Ghostface took them off, buttoning the collar and zipping him in. His glasses were slid back on the bridge of his nose. His hair was ruffled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There we are. You look too cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight stared up at him, trembling in his new dress. The edge reached down past his knees, the fringe tickling his skin. It smelt and looked a lot cleaner than his other clothes, but it was a lot more revealing, leaving him shaking. Ghostface clucked his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poor thing. Let me warm you up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight squealed as he was pulled into the killer’s arms. The robes fluttered around him, warm and smooth like silk. Ghostface tugged him close and sat down on the ground, dragging Dwight into his lap. Gloved hands ran all over his bare skin. Fingers delicately came up to rub at Dwight’s throat, playing with the collar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mask was lifted up. Dwight felt hot breath on his neck and gasped as his ear lobe was sucked in between hot teeth. They nibbled at the delicate skin. Dwight felt a strange, pleasant sensation run through his stomach. He groaned and squirmed, gasping as teeth turned to tongue and sucked eagerly at his neck. A hand slid up his leg and under the dress. Dwight tried to push back, only to squirm deeper into Ghostface’s hold. The killer chuckled, giving him another kiss at the temple. It made Dwight’s stomach tighten with butterflies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t u-understand,” Dwight whimpered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to understand, baby boy.” The arms tightened around him. The mask was removed fully and set off to the side. Dwight caught sight of blonde hair as the killer set his chin in the crook of his shoulder. “I’ve been waiting to have you to myself for ages… That’s all there is to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… you w-want m-me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you more than anything else in this shitty realm,” Ghostface growled, voice husky and low. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He attacked Dwight’s neck more vigorously, licking and biting. It’d be littered with purple spots before the night was done. Already, he could feel the rush of blood tingling under his skin, rising where a greedy tongue lapped and sucked. His hands came up to push at the warm body keeping him pinned. Ghostface growled again and tightened his grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fight it. Daddy’s gonna make you feel soooo good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I d-don’t-t w-want it-t!” Dwight cried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hissed when Ghostface pulled up his dress and fisted his bare cock. He felt a flare of heat rise in his gut as the fingers fondled him. A thumb swiped at his head, the leather texture sending tingles down the whole shaft. Dwight grabbed at the hand. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want a killer to make him feel so… so good! But Ghosface wasn’t having it. He snatched his wrists, reaching out to grab Dwight’s discarded tie. He peppered his cheek with kisses as he tied the survivor’s hands behind his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, baby. I’ll forgive you for fighting. After this, you won’t want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! S-stop!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shhhh. Shhhh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s okay, it’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, it wasn’t. Dwight began to thrash, sure that this was leading somewhere really bad. Ghostface just kept muttering praises under his breath, calling Dwight a ‘good boy’, suckling at his skin and massaging his dick to hardness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, ah, I- I-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight’s voice pushed itself out without his permission. Yet when he wanted to ask him to stop, he found it impossible. His arms, desperately trying to pull themselves free, started to jerk erratically. His legs shook. Ghostface shoved him forward and he dropped to his knees. A hand at the back of his neck eased him to the floor. He was moaning incoherently by the time Ghosface draped his stomach over his back. A hand had snaked under his stomach and was working up a vigorous pace. Dwight felt a hard bulge press into his backside. He groaned. The sensation just added to the layers of bliss. He grit his teeth against it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then that damn, blessed tongue started to attack his neck again. Ghostface bit at his skin, nipping it. The pinpricks of pain felt too much like pleasure. It was working him over the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“G-god, oh f-fuck,” Dwight wasn’t sure if he was begging or not. It felt like it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it. Come for me. Come for Daddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight’s toes curled against the floorboards. He writhed in Ghostface’s arms. His eyes started to fog over. His breath became erratic. Dwight had never touched himself when he was at camp. Privacy was next to none. The building of pleasure in his gut - that wondrous tingle of an approaching orgasm - was making Dwight pant like a dog. He forgot where he was. Just that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt so fucking good, he needed more, he was so fucking close, close, close-!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gah!” Dwight choked on his own voice, hitting his climax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His whole body spasmed, muscles aching as they tensed impossibly tight. Dwight’s lips stretched out into an involuntary smile. All he felt was white, heavenly bliss. Then he crumbled, face to the floor and limbs beneath him as he descended his high. He breathed heavily, glasses askew and the world still dizzy. A hand was gently massaging his ass. He pushed weakly back into the touch, aftershocks of pleasure still making him twitch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God…” Ghostface breathed. “That was beautiful. So responsive for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight could only hear his heartbeat. He felt so satisfied. In a way he’d never thought he’d get to feel again. A pleasure that he thought had been revoked with his entry to this hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, his dress was dropped back over his messy privates. When gloved hands slipped under his limp body and pulled him close, Dwight didn’t fight back. Instead, he turned his face to Ghostface’s chest, fingers curling into the robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-thank-k y-you.” Panic shot through him. “Er- I-I m-mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight sputtered, unsure why he had said that. A thumb grabbed his chin. It tugged his face up. He blushed fiercely, Ghostface’s handsome face studying him with unbridled amusement. He was suddenly bundled up tightly. The killer stood, carrying him bridal-style. Dwight squeaked and buried himself closer, terrified he was going to be hooked. Yet, he was carried away from the gnarly things and taken up the stairs. His arms kept tight around Ghostface’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my good, perfect boy. I knew I picked correctly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That should have set off alarm bells in the survivor’s head. But it didn’t. Maybe he ignored them on purpose. His body, so used to constant torture, just wanted to relax and rest. His eyes were already closing. He felt boneless and spent. He felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ghostface’s fingers continuously massaged where they could reach, lulling him closer to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oops, I had too much fun writing this lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Burning Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>@Forest hobo<br/>“Can I ask for a clown/jake where clown uses aphrodisiacs on jake?”</p><p>Oh, yes! I hope I don’t disappoint!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Ah, come on, Jake!” Adam hollered, waving from his place by the fire. “We’re tellin’ stories! You can’t skip out on the one I have waiting to spin!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake rolled his eyes, but his lips were turned in a good-natured smile. Meg was waving her arms, trying to get him to sit by them, the gathering survivors getting ready for some story telling to pass the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as I enjoy hearing David make up a bunch of tall tales, I’d rather take a walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, the bird-boy prefers his solitude,” Nea smirked. “We get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re missing out!” David grinned. “I have a damned good one up next!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake shook his head and turned, walking away with a wave over his shoulder. “You’ll have to catch me up on it later, then. See ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left the warmth and disappointed sighs behind. The campfire was filling out nicely with bored survivors, but Jake preferred the solitude. When he was in a mood to be alone, he needed to be alone. No amount of pleading could convince him otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A crow flew overhead. He smiled and lifted an arm, letting the dark creature perch at his elbow. It preened as a finger scratched along its neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there, girl. What are you looking for, attention?” Jake never refused to give his crows some love. They couldn’t talk. They never bothered him with their presence. But this one suddenly nipped at his finger. Jake pulled back in surprise, his nail throbbing. The crow flew up a few feet, cawing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what the-!” Jake cut himself off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crow’s eyes were a piercing red. Beady little things not unlike the rats that infested hooks. It opened its beak and purple gas started to pour from its throat. Jake scrambled to escape. But he’d already inhaled too much of the sour, bitter stink. The crow kept flapping behind him, talons tugging at his hair, and more gas drenching his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake swatted it off of him. It hit the ground with a crunch and went still. The gas stopped flowing, but it had already done its job. Jake struggled forward on wobbly feet. His eyes streamed thickly with bitter tears. He wiped at them, reeling away from his own fingers. His own hands felt so fucking hot! He nearly cried out at the searing touch, falling to his knees. His palms crashed into blessedly cool dirt. He clawed at it, ripping up grass to sink into the soil. Some of it splashed on his face. The speckles felt like icy cold drops of water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poor, pathetic thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A boot struck his side. Jake gasped, the pressure tightening his whole body as he rolled on the ground. He gasped, looking up at the gnarly, smiling face of their resident clown. His gaze ran back and forth, scared and confused and furitley searching for escape. A hacking cough rang in his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worked better than I expected. Hey, slut!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloved fingers snapped in front of his face. Hands were groping at his shoulders, dragging him up. Jake’s face twisted as yellowed teeth drew close. A flood of nasty, slimy breath ran over his face, burying itself in his nose. He pushed, unable to get away from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop squirming, ya dumb fuck-” words pushed through the stink of his breath. Jake’s watering eyes peeled open a little wider. He mustered up the best glare he could, still panicking over how a killer got in their haven. He briefly wondered if he was going to get help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hehe! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hack! Hack! </span>
  </em>
  <span> What a nice lookin’ toy I get to play with! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hack!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were more clear. But with them came bare hands. Jake jolted in shock. His jacket was gone. His shirt was suddenly slipping over his head and landing far away in the grass. Something fiery glazed over his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Clown had peeled off his gloves, and the contact of his skin sent flares of white heat racing down Jake’s sides. It was achingly hot, and totally unlike the burn of his own touch. The Clown’s skin felt… scarily </span>
  <em>
    <span>good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jake jerked away violently, realizing he’d been arching his back to push into the touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Clown laughed heartily, kneeling between his legs and grabbing his hips. His belt was jerked off. The pants follow, the huge butterfly knife tearing clean through the legs. The hands came right back to his hips. Jake bucked into the warmth, gagging on his own spit. His whole body throbbed. The heat was slowly turning into an aching, tremendous feeling of </span>
  <em>
    <span>need. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It made him feel ready to implode. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, what was happening? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right. You’re gonna be a good, needy little slut for me, aren’t ya?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Clown’s body collapsed over his. Jake’s hands flew up to push at the chest that pressed against his own. The killer’s hands patted all over his body. Jake writhed and moaned, unable to stop the lewd sounds from escaping. He was as hard as a rock. He didn’t know when he’d even gotten aroused. It had just… happened, like he hadn’t just been smirking at his overly chatty friends. A palm at his dick stole away those thoughts quickly. Jake gasped and ground up into the open hand. Hacking laughs followed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like my concoction? It turns annoying fucking pests into groveling sluts,” he accented ‘slut’ with a twist of Jake’s cock, earning a choked scream and hands scrambling to break away his grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Clown’s iron hold stayed and gave his dick a light squeeze. Jake nearly sobbed, trying to free it. It felt like the killer was trying to crush it. The Clown lessened up and pulled back. Jake fell over, bleary eyed and holding his privates gently. He hissed everytime his fingers made contact with his flesh, so he just hovered his cupped hands above it. He was shaking all over. A sweat had broken out and he could feel his heart beat in his throat. He looked up at his one-man audience. The Clown licked his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gassed you up with an aphrodisiac, boy,” he sneered. His own jacket started to come off. Jake tried to back away, but his legs were pinned by the killer’s. “But you won’t be able to get off yourself. Go ahead, try…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?… fuck…” Jake tried to form a sentence. But he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the throbbing in his cock. It was almost painful. He panted, touching it, but reeling away. He wanted to sob. His hand grasped his shaft, the fingers jerking away violently. “Fuck! Oh, God, fuck!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” The Clown soothed. “I can soothe that burn. If I don’t, it’ll cook you up till you're a husk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The killer was bare from the top up, hairy gut extended over his belt. It pressed into Jake’s own smooth stomach, the contact making the survivor wirth in both pleasure and pain. The pressure was almost too much. He gasped for breath, head throwing itself back and forth to avoid The Clown’s sneering face. The painted lips reached out to mockingly snap at his face. The scrape of his teeth ignited embers along his cheek. Jake violently tried to thrash. The Clown just pressed into him, groaning as his hard, clothed cock pressed into the survivor’s leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, fuck yeah. You feel real fuckin’ good, bird-boy. Do I feel good too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off-” Jake choked out. “Get offa’ me! H-help!” His voice felt hoarse. Even his own cries for rescue seemed to sear his throat. “Shit!-gah!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Clown pressed his lips to the survivor’s. Jake clasped his teeth and lips shut tight. A tingling sensation broke out across his face as the killer snickered, tongue trying and failing to dig past his barrier. The appendage slid, instead, up the side of his face. Jake tried to turn his head away, eyes snapped shut. A hand kept his head still. He was trapped. This was too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” he whined. “Stop. Stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Haha! </span>
  </em>
  <span>And why would I wanna do that?</span>
  <em>
    <span> Hack! Ha! Hack!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I think you’re enjoying it too, little man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no! Fuck you- ah-ah-ah! Oh god!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake shook his head. Even though he was practically thrusting up into the warm body above. Lips pressed back against his sealed lips. The killer lapped and sucked at the barred entrance, biting down into his lips until it bled. Jake was forced to give in. He gagged as a tounge plundred down his throat, nearly fucking him in its enthusiasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake’s legs tried to kick out. They were pinned, a fiery heat pressing him into the not-cold-enough dirt. A hand had trapped itself between them. The single, feather-light touch across his dick made it jolt with electricity. The keening sound caught in his throat was embarrassing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hear that?” The killer said lowly. “Sounds like I have a little liar under my hands. You’re enjoying this more than anything else you’ll get in this shit hole. You should be thanking me for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhng~” Jake couldn’t respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he could feel was that gloriously, satisfying heat wrapping around his cock. He wasn’t trying to escape anymore. Oh, fuck no. He had to chase out that approaching high. It was so close. Oh God, he was going to cum! Jake’s mouth opened, tongue lolling out as he panted through the near-impact of the climax. And then all the beautiful warmth pulled away, leaving Jake sobbing and writhing on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Clown circled around the survivor with a too-wide grin. Jake reached out blindly, grasping his boots. He was mumbling words, not sure if he was begging for freedom or more contact. A boot stepped on his grasping hand. Jake nearly screamed, his bones shifting together, feeling like they might break despite how lightly they were pressed upon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-please,” Jake nearly sobbed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask me to get you off,” the killer ordered, adding more weight. Jake’s arm failed to wretch free. “Ask me nicely, and maybe I won’t leave you here to burn up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please! Please! I- I-” A fleeting second of coherency made Jake seeth with humiliation. But the boot came off his hand and the killer was leaning down, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh god Jake just wanted to get off, he was so close, he just needed a touch!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please what?” A hand hovered over his throbbing cock. It bobbed up, as if trying to reach the skin itself. The clown batted at it like a cat, hoarse coughing laugh filling a convulsing Jake’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please touch me! Touch me!” His hips thrust up. Right into that amazing touch. The clown stood up though, and Jake whimpered, unable to follow it from off the ground. His limbs wouldn’t do anything but flail in frenzied tremors. “I need it, please! Get me off!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” came the mocking coo. “Since you asked so prettily…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake nearly cried when the killed moved away. He tried to sit up, but he just ended up on his side. The Clown grasped the back of his neck and hauled him to his knees, kicking them apart and opening him up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go, ya greedy slut.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Clown’s leg found its way against his groin. Jake’s legs immediately snapped shut around them, his hips jerking to grind himself against the rough fabric of bloodied pants. The hand at his neck kept his cheek pinned to the killer’s thigh, roughly petting him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, ah, ah, ah~ god, g- ah!” Jake hit his peak with a few more harsh thrusts. He held onto the killer’s leg, soaking in the petting and scraping feel of the jeans and the beautiful glow in the bottom of his gut. He came all over his stomach and legs, biting into the killer’s thigh as he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clung to The Clown’s leg, even after what felt like a lifetime. He wasn’t sure he could move if he tried. But fingers began to slowly pry him off. One by one, he was shoved back and dropped unceremoniously into the dirt. His body had cooled. Touch no longer seared his flesh. He just felt… spent. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hehe, hack!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Clown stared down at him, dragging two finger-fulls of Jake’s cum to his mouth. “That was quite the performance, bird-boy. But now you gotta fix my problem, since you’re the one who caused it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ha! Ha!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake just stared up at the night sky. The killer knelt over his face, jerking himself off in a few, quick pumps. A load of yellowed cum gushed out. His unresisting mouth was forced open and the head sliding at his bottom lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to come back for an encore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake barely heard him. Barely felt the condescending pat at his cum-coated face or the lifting weight. The survivor was finally alone, and the thick mist around him thinned back to normal. The glow of a campfire started to flicker somewhere between the trees. And still, Jake laid, twitching on his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even stir when Meg screamed his name. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>thanks to an anon for this prompt!<br/>“Jake Park/Dwight: There's something really arousing about seeing Dwight wearing less clothing than him. Fucking him being fully clothed is even more exciting.”</p><p>Here you are! It was a fun dynamic to write between these two!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was something about Dwight’s skin that always made Jake take a second glance. No matter how composed or iron-willed he thought himself to be, the nervous survivor could make him lose his train of thought with the simplest flash of his shoulder. A torn shirt or loosened tie was enough, too. And Dwight knew it. He’d flash his pale skin during trials with a wink, if he felt bold enough, making Jake waste precious seconds ogling. Not that it'd always been that way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their relationship had started out simple. Holding hands. Talking. Then Dwight had kissed him one day, pushing past his embarrassment to ask for something more intimate. Jake wanted something too. But he hadn’t wanted to remove his clothes. He liked the security of the layers beneath his jacket, his gloves and scarf and boots. Dwight didn’t care. He had just wanted to be touched. So Jake undressed him, and ran his clothed fingers across the expanse of his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake had found his only true weakness in this terrible realm. So did Dwight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whenever they got the chance, they’d sneak away to fuck. It was obvious, especially with how loud Dwight could be. David was only one to mention anything. He’d rib Dwight because Jake never gave him a good reaction, then Meg would whack him upside the head and tell him to mind his own business. Jake would smirk at Dwight’s flustered face, grab his hand, and lead him off to somewhere private while the other two hashed it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we g-going?” Dwight knew, if the excited stumble in his words was any indication. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake merely gave him a smirk. It made Dwight’s cheeks go red, and as soon as they rounded a large oak tree, they were on each other. Dwight’s tie came loose. He tried to slip it over his head but it got caught on his glasses. Jake chuckled as he helped him, sliding his lenses back on, and kissing the tip of his nose. He lowered his head so his lips brushed against Dwight’s ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t wait to see you naked, moaning under me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight made what could have been mistaken for a pained noise. His hands came up to fumble at his top button. It came free much easier than his tie. He wasn't even halfway through the buttons before Jake’s hands were sliding under the fabric. Dwight pushed into him. He reached up and caught Jake’s mouth in a kiss. The saboteur’s fingers, massaging along Dwight’s waist, lowered and played with the hem of his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop teasing,” Dwight whined. “I’ll be called into a trial before you get them off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake huffed a breathy laugh into his neck. “You’re impatient today."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just… really hard to resist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake bit at his skin before forcefully turning him around, chest to the tree and Jake at his back. His pants were yanked down quickly. Dwight never wore underwear. He’d discarded them a long time ago. They just made the whole process longer. He pushed his bare ass against the clothed bulge. Jake pushed back, grabbing at his Dwight's shirt to tear it the rest of the way off. The last, slotted button tore free. It disappeared in the grass, forgotten. Dwight reached down to pull apart his ass. Jake pried his hands away, pinning his wrists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like I said. Impatient. You still have these to get rid of." His feet kicked at Dwight's dirty shoes, and the pants still pooled around his ankles. "Then I'll fuck you silly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight nodded eagerly and tried to wiggle free, unable to get off his pants with kicks alone. Jake stepped back to give him the room. First the shoes, then the pants, then the socks. All thrown off in complete disregard for having to scrounge for them after. Jake pounced as soon as he was bare. Dwight giggle screamed as they both fell to the dirt, kissing and groping each other. Dwight hummed content at the finger caressing between his ass. When it pressed against his hole, his hum became a groan. The dry leather burned his rim as it just barely pushed inside. He gripped Jake's jacket with shaky fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah~ please," Dwight breathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you want, babe?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wanna suck your d-dick."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake snorted, immediately pushing to his feet. Dwight followed on his knees, pressing his face into Jake's thigh as the saboteur unzipped himself. Dwight enjoyed the feel of the rough jean fabric against his cheek, and the hot, thick warmth slapping against the other one. He nuzzled it. Jake groaned, gritting his teeth to cut himself off as Dwight licked at his balls.  Jake was always quiet, even during sex. Dwight's favorite pastime was hearing his little noises, wrangled free by his own hand. He reached up and groped Jake's balls. His tongue lead up the shaft and to the head. He gave it a chaste kiss, making sure Jake had his eye contact as he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck, you're so beautiful. I want to wreck those lips."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight swirled his tongue around the head as if asking 'why don't you?' His head was grabbed and the hard cock shoved inside. He sucked Jake in eagerly, hands against his thighs as he listened to the small grunts above him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Look at me, babe. I want to see myself fucking your face."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight looked. The tempo picked up, and he gagged a bit as the head scraped the back of his throat. Drool built up around the cock. It dribbled down his chin and down to his quivering legs. His own cock was rock hard, and his hands struggled not to touch it. He worried he’d blow his load before the real fun began. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, fuck,” Jake pulled out quickly. He gave himself a few pumps then let go, cock bobbing at the near orgasm. Precum was slick on Dwight’s tongue. He licked his lips, teasingly pretending to bite at Jake’s dick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, careful, or I’ll blow it all over your face,” Jake warned. “That face is too cute to be within proximity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on ~ I only got a lick,” Dwight teased. “You barely lasted long enough for me to get a good taste!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a dangerous gleam in Jake’s eye. Dwight smirked at it, and found himself pinned, back to the ground with Jake looming over him. He gave Dwight’s backside a sharp slap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can stuff those smart-ass lips of yours, or I can wreck that ass. What’ll it be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...” Dwight had to reorient his horny thoughts, cheek stinging. “Ass wrecking, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake smiled, smug. “I think I can do that. But first…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let go of Dwight’s hands, fabric sliding down Dwight’s skin as he lowered himself between his thighs. Gloved fingers gripped hard at the creamy skin, pushing it aside. His thumb massaged into the soft flesh. He pressed kisses around Dwight’s cock. It throbbed in excitement, already dribbling precum. Jake peered over it like a shark. Dwight was staring at him, breathing heavily and biting his lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, you tease! You’re gonna kill me with that look!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d just come right back to me,” Jake said, sliding a slow lick up his shaft. Dwight bit his tongue. He let out a frustrated groan when that sweet heat left again. Jake was just staring at him. Eyes lidded with lust, lips perked up in the tiniest hint of a smile. Dwight bucked his hips, trying to reach that stupid, smug mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on!” he whined. “You’re actually killing me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh am I? What about this?” Jake asked, amused. But he still took Dwight’s cock into his mouth in one swallow. The resulting spasm under his hands had him grinning, struggling to properly deep-throat his lover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, god,” Dwight hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached up to thread his fingers through Jake’s unruly hair. Knots caught at his digits, and he struggled not to pull at them when that warm, heavenly mouth sucked in impossibly farther. Jake pulled up with a squelch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like that? How do I make you feel, babe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“F-fuck, better than anything else in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I like to hear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The head was twirled around his tongue, and swallowed whole again. Dwight made a strangled noise. His bucking hips were pressed firmly still, Jake holding him as his head bobbed up and down. He went faster, tongue moving in circles and spit starting to build at the corners of his lips, too focused to bother wiping it away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, J-Jake! I-I’m coming!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In response, he pulled off fully, jerking the throbbing cock with slick fingers. Dwight thrusted into the glove eagerly, coming with loud moans in between the saboteur's name. Strings of hot cum shot over Jake’s face. His mouth was open and waiting, catching only a bit of it as the rest spread over his eyes and cheek. He pumped Dwight’s through the rest of his orgasm, eliciting pre-climax tremors through his already shaking body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already spent, Dwight?” Jake asked, grinning down at him, licking the cum from his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One hand still fondled Dwight’s softening cock. Dwight hissed, but didn’t pull away. The thrums of oversensitivity began to coil in his gut. Jake pulled away before it got too much, licking the last of the cum from his lips and hoisting Dwight’s ass over his lap. His hands trailed over his lover's body, stirring to life those retreating feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight’s legs tightened around the strong waist. Jake’s cock stood proudly from his jean zipper. It twitched as it pressed against Dwight’s hole. With a hard push, he sheathed half of himself inside. Dwight gasped, head thrown back. He wiggled his hips, trying to press down fully. Jake obliged with a single rut of his hips. His balls slapped against Dwight’s. There was a pause as both got used to the slightly tight fit. Then Jake began to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their breaths intermingled faintly before lips crashed together. Jake’s scarf pooled over Dwight’s shoulders, tickling him. It only added to the layers of sensation. Jake’s body felt so good. The rough scratch of dried blood on his clothes. The warm leather gripping into his cock, nearly driving him mad as he played with the head. Wave after wave of </span>
  <em>
    <span>too-much-pleasure </span>
  </em>
  <span>rocked through his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ass tightened around Jake's thrusting member. His toes curled, feeling like he might cum again but never quite reaching it. Jake pounded into him harder. Dwight moaned and broke the kiss, forced to throw back his head as if it’d help control the tingles running through his limbs. Drool had started to slide down his chin, his breath heavy and short. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jake, oh God, J-Jake!” Dwight didn’t care if he was being loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it, baby. You feel so fucking good. God, you’re clenching around me so nicely.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grunted, hitting his own climax in a sudden, shuddering halt. His body curled over Dwight’s. Hungry lips caught each other. Between them, Jake’s ruts slowed, and his fingers gently massaged off of Dwight’s dick to his thighs. His body immediately relaxed, sinking into the ground. Jake sunk on top of him, holding him close as they basked in the afterglow. His own softening cock slid free a moment later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached lazily between them, hand finding Dwight’s loosened hole and playing with his semen inside. He opened it up with two gloved fingers. Cum leaked free, down between his crack and into the grass. Muscles lazily fluttered around his retreating digits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That… that was really good,” Dwight said breathlessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t I always?” Jake smirked, kissing his temple. “And as always, you were beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight snorted, embarrassed. “Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did I get so lucky anyway?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Funny. I was just asking myself the same thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dwight shivered, Jake fell back over him, trapping his bare skin under his warmth. He took him in another kiss. They didn’t bother moving from their spot among the trampled grass. No one would bother them, not after how loud they’d been. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Crow to be Kept</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Huge thanks to @Moonstar4444!<br/>“The entity decided to take away Jake from the campfire, turning the strong saboteur part crow and leaving him as a prized pet to be claimed in a new game it has for the killers.”</p><p>I swear this one-shot developed a mind of its own lol</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jake held his stomach, holding back a groan. It had been aching all damned day. The pinching cramps had been easy to ignore at first. They came after a regular, routine trial. He’d thought them phantom at first. The Spirit’s katana had a special kind of pain to it. One that lingered long after the trial ended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the cramps never left. They got worse. It felt like a sickness. Not the kind of illness The Plague spewed. It felt like needles under his body. Like a heat was mangling his flesh. This felt like…. Jake didn’t know what it was, and that was worse than the pain itself. And now here he was, avoiding the other survivors in the woods, sweating as he held in his groans. He wasn’t sure anyone could help. Not even Claude. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought, curling into a ball. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did I do something bad? Is this a punishment? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gah!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The normally quiet saboteur yelped as something seemed to strike his gut, like he’d been punched. He lifted his shirt, looking for a wound but finding none. Instead, his fingers felt across his prickling flesh, touching something hard beneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grimaced and pushed. It felt like a bead of rice was set just under his skin. More pain lanced through his gut. The hard nub broke skin and something soft and fluffy pushed through. It was happening all across his chest and stomach, the black fluff lengthening into feathers. Jake freaked out, trying to yank them out as they grew. But it caused horrible agony, like trying to tear off a fingernail. He could only watch in horror as more grew down his arms. Pressure built along his neck and near his eyes. He curled into a ball, the sensations of his change making him whimper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“F… fuuuck…” he ground out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realized he may have to swallow his pride and ask for some help. He also realized it might be too little too late to do anything. He started to crawl towards the faint glow of the fire anyway. His stomach gave another sharp stab of pain. He ignored it, continuing to crawl. From behind, something crept after him. Thick arms of fog rose around him. Jake only noticed it when it swallowed him fully, masking his view of the forest. He didn’t have a chance to panic. A wave of the worst pain yet crashed into him. He shuddered into himself, going rigidly still as he endured it. When it faded to waves of tingles, Jake finally cracked open a wary eye. He was in the Hag’s swamp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakily looked around, trying to stand but immediately fell over. He meant to curse, but instead, a bird-like squawk escaped him. He grabbed at his throat in shock. He tried again, but words were lost to him. Jake looked down at his legs, his strange voice giving an animal-like cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His boots had been shredded apart by his new feet - long, yellow talons with sharp claws. They were awkward to walk on. Jake stumbled like a fawn, his first steps clumsy and unsure. But after a few moments, he got the hang of it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like his feet, the rest of his body had been changed. His arms had long, black feathers sliding from his skin, forming somewhat of a choppy wing shape. He had to tear off his jacket to let them breath. And even with the new freedom, they still ached horribly. The feathers had grown stunted and already broken. Shorter, fluffier feathers ran up his chest and neck, itching terribly under his partially torn clothes. He ripped off his scarf to scratch there. But his nails only caused pain.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A crow cawed. Jake froze, head snapping towards the bird flying overhead. He blinked, confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did I… did I understand that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jake wondered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crow fluttered above him. A black eye shone before the same caw rang out. It wasn’t like any human language. He just felt what the creature was trying to tell him. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Danger! Danger! High! Fly! High! High!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake had a terrible urge to flap his arms to go with the retreating bird. But he knew he couldn’t do that. The Entity may have changed him, but it still clipped his wings. Jake instead took to the traditional route of hiding away behind a log and cattails. He didn’t see any generators to work on. No hooks either. Weird. He crouched a little lower when he heard something heavy approach. A crow cawed nearby. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>High! High! Ogre! Fly! Ogre!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake wasn’t sure who the ogre was. Not until he heard the heavy, bull-like breaths of the Oni. The demon came from the thick mist, seemingly out of nowhere, looking around wildly. His giant Kanabo was glistening with blood. Jake wondered if any other survivors were here with him and whose it could be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Oni let out a sudden roar, his white mane whipping in the wind as he took a running charge past Jake. The crow boy ducked low. He hadn’t even heard a heartbeat. Without a terror radius, it’d be harder to stay hidden. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Skitter! Skitter! Fly! </b>
  <span>A crow shrieked at him from above, flapping its wings as if to demonstrate the severity of its urgency. </span>
  <b>Fly! Fly! Ghost! Ghost! Behind! Behind!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake spun around, hearing the faintest crinkle of dead leaves. He jumped at the sight of a white mask and black-clad, crouched body. Ghostface had a knife, poised and ready. He jumped a little, as if surprised that Jake noticed his approach, and gave a wave. Jake sprinted over the log. Ghostface was right on his heels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, birdy, I won’t hurt ya! Not too much anyway!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was the swipe of a blade. Jake jumped, feeling the wind slice at the ends of his feathers. He vaulted through a window and into a dilapidated shack. He squawked when the blade cut into his back. He fell through the window and onto the floorboards below. Ghostface silently crept over the sill and hunkered down next to Jake. He grabbed his hair and pulled his head up, looking over his newly added features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a low whistle. “Damn. The Entity wasn’t lying when it said it had something special for us.” The blade settled by Jake’s neck as he tried to struggle. He sucked in a harsh gasp. </span>
  <span>“Now. You’re going to be a good little birdy, and stay quiet while we slip outta this dump. Got it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake could only ground out a harsh cawing snarl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strangled your cords, too, huh? Then nod if you understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blade sunk in, cutting his skin. Jake nodded, ignoring the warm trickle of blood. He’d have to wait for an opportunity to escape. He didn’t have to wait long. It came in the form of black, beating wings and surprisingly sharp talons. Ghostface jerked back in surprise. The crow shot through the window and into his mask, forcing him off of Jake and onto his ass. The knife clattered somewhere. Ghostface reached for it, but the crow got to it first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah! Uh, what the fuck,” Ghostface said, hands up as his own knife was pointed at him. The crow held it between its beak, the point aimed dangerously towards the killer. It hopped a little, as if to convey that it wasn’t fucking around. Ghostface shook his head, as if just realizing that he was surrendering to a bird. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you little shit, give that back!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lunged, trying to swat the crow’s side. It leapt over the strike and jerked its head violently upward. Ghostface hissed as red ran down the length of his robe sleeve. He kicked out at the crow, but it flew out of the way and lunged again. Ghostface stumbled back. Jake took the opportunity to run around him and out the door. The killer tried to make chase. The crow went for his belly as he was forced to jump away from the feathers and steel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna die, you winged rat!?” Ghostface shouted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake didn’t stick around to see the outcome of the fight. He was already sprinting down into the valley of the map. He was a lot faster with his new feet. His claws dug into the ground and pushed him forward. Reeds slapped and lashed at his face as he made his way to the steamer. The Pale Rose gave him shelter while he tried to tend to his wounds. He couldn't reach his back though, and had to settle for gritting his teeth against the pull of flesh there. He let out a shaky breath, but didn’t dare sit down. He had to find a way out of this swamp. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What do you want from me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He glared at the ceiling, peering past it as if he could see the damned spider god. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What do I have to do to escape?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no answer. A tiny hiss of frustration escaped him. He grabbed at his head, trying to fend off the rolling waves of panic. He never felt like this. Not anymore. Not after living so long in this horrific realm. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tried to scream. An angry ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>caw!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> ripped from his throat instead. His head snapped up when something returned the call. Another crow. It wasn’t the one who attacked Ghostface. Jake had never been able to tell before, but now it was easy to tell apart the birds as it was humans. This one was sleeker, cleaner, with purple undertones ringing around its neck. He could tell it was anxious. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Silent, silent, silent. Crow killer. Silent, silent. Approaching. </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake immediately got his emotions under control, following the jittery crow to the back of the steamer. Just in time too. He heard heavy footfalls. Familiar boot stomps, along with the jingle of chains. He cursed himself for losing his cool and attracting the Gunslinger’s attention in the first place. He followed the crow under the staircase and held his breath. The killer made his way closer, surveying the area in quick strides. Maybe too quickly. He passed by Jake, allowing the survivor to sneak back the way he came. He was halfway down the hall when the crow suddenly shot up in alarm. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Away, away! Away-!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a loud, ear-ringing shot. Feathers and blood splattered onto Jake’s horrified face. He let out a shrieking caw as the crow was pinned to the far wall by a spear. The spearhead was yanked free and violently snapped back into the barrel of the Deathslinger’s gun. He chuckled and leveled it at Jake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hehe, now come on, pretty boy, don’t run off. Get on ov’r here before someone else gets a hold a’ya.” The rifle was given a warning shake. Jake’s eyes flickered towards the doorway. He had no idea if he’d be fast enough, but his legs tensed to at least try. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrieked, the spear head jutting through his shoulder and hooking onto ruined flesh. Jake’s talons scraped grooves in the wood. He was helplessly dragged towards the killer, who’s hand was reaching out to snag him by the throat. Jake kicked out at his knees. The Deathslinger barked at him to keep still. Then both of them gave sudden cries of pain as static filled The Pale Rose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit!” The Deathslinger ground between clenched teeth, ripping his spear free. “Fuckin’ vultures, all of ya!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake was still seizing. He only felt the pull of the metal and the fall of his body before lanky, firm arms scooped him up. He thrashed, but it was weak. Both with Ghostface’s wounds and this fresh blood loss, Jake was starting to feel light-headed. But he was still pissed over the purple crow’s death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the bounty hunter fled the steamer, Jake lifted his leg and used all his strength to jack-rabbit it straight up. Blood flew from the killer’s mouth as his chin was smashed, teeth biting into his tongue. He yowled and dropped Jake, who took off in a stumbling sprint. Another pulse of electricity hit him. He dashed into the reeds to desperately look for shelter. He wanted to fly away. A painful desire to join the black specks in the sky stabbed at his heart. But his feathers were too short. He was too heavy. He felt sick with the knowledge that he wasn’t quite human, nor crow. He was bits and pieces of each that didn’t work well together. He would have called out for the far-off birds, but he heard the Deathslinger’s rifle go off again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake hit the dirt, but the spear didn’t soar over his head. It didn't. Another pulse of static washed over the area. Not enough to hurt. Jake peeked through the reeds. His eyes widened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn fucker!” The Deathslinger had missed his shot. He'd been aiming for the Doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was backing up from the Doctor’s stick, which was swinging wildly at his face. The chain snapped forward and hit the Doctor on the shoulder. He jerked forward with a grunt. A fist flew across his face, and then the rifle. The doctor cackled as blood ran down his lip. He tried to strike out, but his gut was rammed with the butt of the weapon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake gulped. He needed to get out of here while they were distracted. He barely took two steps before a terrible roar shook the air in the very direction he was heading. The killers behind him stopped fighting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something charged through the reeds, slamming into Jake and sweeping him off his feet. A huge bicep curled over his waist, tucking him against heaving ribs. The Oni charged at the two killers with him in tow, causing all three of them to make varied noises of surprise. The Deathslinger was rammed into the dirt. The Doctor cackled at him, the remnants of his static following the Oni all the way to an Exit Gate. It was closed though. The Oni smashed at it with his Kanabo, but it only sent painful vibrations up his arm and through Jake, who was still wriggling hopelessly. He squawked for any crows to come help him, knowing full well that they wouldn’t be able to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmp,” The Oni grunted and gave him a shake. “Quit that incessant sniveling, boy! I’m trying to think!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake’s world spun as the killer rapidly turned around. The Deathslinger had caught up to them, rifle up and ready. The Doctor -now sporting a black eye - wasn’t far behind. But instead of attacking the bounty hunter, he helped circle around the Oni, his stick smacking into his palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ain’t gettin’ out like that,” The Deathslinger scowled. “It’s a deathmatch, partner. And I intend to leave with that prize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After we kill this brute, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>be taking what’s mine,” The Doctor chirped at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t act so sure of yourself, Herman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough!” The Oni bellowed. He dropped Jake, then lifted a boot. The saboteur squawked desperately before his leg was cracked in half. He thrashed on the ground, struggling to hold in his pained wails as the Oni stepped over him. His Kanabo pointed at the other killers. "Come die by my hand, weaklings!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat this, ya ugly fuck-!” The rifle went off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Oni swiped upward and the spearhead went flying. It gave the demon a chance to charge forward. Static filled the area, followed by laughter and the squelching of flesh. Jake was too busy crawling away by his fingertips to notice who was killing who. His good leg kicked at the dirt. He got a few feet from the fight before something flew down beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the same crow who saved him from Ghostface. A plump, bright-eyed bird now covered in blood. It still held the killer’s knife. The knife Jake was taking from its beak with a shaky but determined hand. He slipped it into his jacket before anyone noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Danger. Danger. Fight. Fight. Claw. Bite.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The crow was obviously trying to be quiet, but Jake feared it too would be squashed. Even if this particular bird somehow managed to kill a serial killer. He made a strangled cawing sound, instinctively knowing he was pouring all his distress and fears into it. The crow gave him one last sympathetic caw and took off. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Go. Sorry. Go. Sorry. Sorry. </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake rolled onto his gut and kept crawling. He reached the side of the exit gate, crawling around the corner and into the thicket of grass there. His blood would easily lead the victor to him, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight. He held his knife tightly, and sat up, just in time to catch the Oni smashing the Doctor into a tree. His body crunched and blood sputtered from his orifices like a sprinkler. It slumped lifelessly to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Oni spun around, roaring and looking for his last enemy. A gunshot rang out. The Deathslinger laughed triumptely, the Oni going stock still as a red point jutted from his face. With a flick of his wrist, the chain withdrew. It snapped from the demon’s head and threw his body into the dirt with a heavy slam. The chain rolled back into the gun, and the bounty hunter slowly turned with searching eyes. He limped as he followed Jake’s blood trail. The saboteur readied his blade. His heart raced with the very real threat of failure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hehe,” The Deathslinger coughed between his laughter, wiping away specks of red. “Come on out, little birdy. You can’t hide from me... There you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped over the grass, his rifle at his back and smiling face catching Jake’s stony one. As his hands reached down to claim his prize, Jake lunged. The knife missed its mark - the killer’s chest - and sunk through his splayed palm. The Deathslinger grunted. Jake’s heart sank, face eating dirt as he was smashed onto his stomach. He screamed as his broken leg twisted against the ground. A boot stomped on his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ hell,” the bounty hunter pulled the knife free. He shook away the excess blood, then reached over to pull down the lever. Jake’s eyes widened as the first light lit up red. An alarm rang out, alerting only them and the dead bodies to potential escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna pay for that. But right now, I’m too fuckin’ happy to have bagged my game. I can’t wait to get you in your pretty little cage. A pretty cage for such a pretty bird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake whimpered, squirming like a bug under glass. He tried to say something with human words, to curse this monster and the deity who put him here. But Jake could only squawk and caw. The gunslinger laughed again, looking to the gates as they gave a shudder and opened. He reached down and jerked Jake up and over his shoulder. By now, his poor body was so worn, he couldn’t fight back. He slumped, accepting his defeat with a pained moan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my good birdie. The sooner you accept your new place, the easier this’ll be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake grit his teeth in indignation. He had enough pride left to kick out with his meager strength. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A’course, I like a little struggle while I break em’in.” Jake jerked angrily at the pat on his ass. “So don’t make this too easy on me, darlin’. Not that I expect ya to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake wildly eyed the fog that had begun to descend upon them. When it thinned, the killer and his crow were gone. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Pests of Ormond</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Big thanks to @Exlicor!<br/>“I'm quite the simp for the legion, so any frank/joey x males would be a fic id like to see.”</p><p>I may have found a new ship I like ;) hope you enjoy!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Joey grinned as he eagerly ducked into the forest. The winds of Ormond howled above him, the snow thick and whipping through the cold breeze. Joey clung tightly to a note left on his windowsill, Frank’s handwriting an ugly mark along the page:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Meet me in the woods, dipshit. ;)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey was out his partially open window, already imagining all the dirty things he was going to do to his boyfriend. Frank was always fun when he was being spontaneous. And Joey was feeling adventurous himself. And horny. Couldn't forget that important detail. Frank had been gone all day, so he assumed he must have something special planned out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, calling out for the other Legion’s name, Joey couldn’t find him. He reached one of the deepest parts of the woods looking for Frank. The Ormond snows reached far, expanding out into dead, frozen undergrowth. It crunched under Joey’s boots. He paused when he came across another pair of footsteps in the snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours old, only partially covered by the recent snowfall. They were definitely Frank’s. Joey grinned as he followed them. But that grin turned to worry when another pair of prints suddenly overlapped Frank’s as if out of thin air. Bigger, heavier prints. His gait picked up. His knife was withdrawn with a steady hand, eyes scanning the trees for a threat.  He hesitated to call out Frank’s name again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something metallic seemed to tingle against his tongue. Joey barely had a moment to register what it was before a heavy wave of static nearly crippled him to his knees. He swore he heard Frank’s scream beneath the buzz now ringing in his ears. He had no thought of going back for Julie and Susie’s help. Frank sounded like he was in pain. He needed help. Now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey unsheathed his blade and dashed through the trees, following the thickening fog of electricity. It seemed to be coming from one of the isolated sheds. A little wooden bunker whose roof was nearly caved in by the heavy fall. </span>
  <span>The door was closed. Another pulse of static erupted free of it. Joey kicked at the door as he approached, adrenaline and anger running through his veins. It took everything he had not to collapse as a fresh surge of electricity ran through him, the good doctor himself cackling. He must have been waiting by the door, because his stick bashed over Joey’s head with an impatient precision. The Legion went down with a hard </span>
  <em>
    <span>thunk! </span>
  </em>
  <span>and</span>
  <span>grasped at the new wound on his skull. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck-!” The stick smacked into his face, cutting off his curse. Joey was dazed for several nauseating seconds, feeling nothing but pain as strong hands grabbed his arms. Joey tried to fight back. His neck was roughly grabbed and his face shoved back into the floorboards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a bit more resilient than I anticipated,” The Doctor mused. “Good, good. It’ll make this so much more fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey barely heard him. He was blinking through the haze, looking for Frank. The Doctor wretched his arms behind him, shackling them with metal cuffs before jerking his head up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Frank?” Joey spat, blood on his lip. His nose was broken. His bandana hung loosely from it, the gushing blood making it hard to breath. The Doctor yanked off the fabric, cradling his bruised face. Joey tried to bite him. The Doctor just laughed, lightly slapping him upside the head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s been asking for you too, Joey. It was very rude of you to keep him waiting for so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’ve hurt him-” Joey’s threat was cut off with another slap, this one harder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor, dragging him by the collar of his jacket, took him towards the back of the house. There was a cellar there, already wide open and with dull lights flickering below. Joey heard muffled grunting. He tried to look as the heavy doors shut above his head. The Doctor’s steps echoed all the way to the cement bottom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against a support beam, Frank sat on a metal chair, legs and arms tied down with chains, and a rag tied off between his lips. His jacket was gone. He was in nothing but his undershirt and boxers, shivering against the cold. He had a black eye that’d been swollen shut. The other widened in shock at seeing Joey. More curses tried to escape him, drowned out by the older killer’s cackle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor tossed Joey on the ground and undid his cuffs, hooking them back around a pillar across from Frank. Joey tried asking if he was okay, but his mouth was stuffed with a dirty rag that made his taste-buds burn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now we can get started,” The Doctor hummed happily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clapped his hands together. Another wave of static was let loose, climbing through the metal restraints holding the rowdy troublemakers. They both groaned into their rags, teeth clenched and muscles straining. Their bodies went simultaneously limp as the air went still. Joey had to take three deep breaths through his nose before his vision righted. He nearly snarled, watching The Doctor stroke a struggling Frank’s cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s been an excellent specimen, so far,” The Doctor hummed. “I always knew you were still very much human, but I had no idea how little The Entity changed you. It doesn’t punish you four often, does it? And yet you still manage to get into my lab and smash things like pesky rodents. I had to take matters into my own hands. And what’s the best use for rodents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank eyed him uneasily. The grip on his chin tightened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now. You sit here quietly and watch. You can struggle if you’d like. It’ll make handling you easier if you’re worn out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank did struggle, his anger giving away to panic as The Doctor turned his back to him and crouched before Joey. A switchblade was pulled from his belt. Joey sucked in a breath and made his face as stony as possible. He refused to give this killer any kind of satisfying reaction. But as his jacket was cut off and his pant legs snipped away, his breathing got harder to control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t see Frank past The Doctor’s looming form. His pulled-back smile was wheezing with eager breaths. Luminescent eyes attentively watched his face. Joey’s breath slightly hitched when his boxers were tugged down, just enough to see the dark curls below his navel. Fingers suddenly slid lower. They harshly gripped at his flaccid cock, and a bolt of static fled the killer’s palm. Joey bucked, his vocal cords taut as an involuntary scream escaped him. Frank started to thrash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have your turn, impatient brat,” The Doctor said, never taking his eyes off Joey. “This one needs to be broken in a bit. I like it when my subjects are a little loud. Too much, and it becomes aggravating. But no responses means no data.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another shock. Joey yelped, managed to keep from a full-fledged shout. His legs were kept open by the older killer, but they still twisted, struggling to block out the intruding hand. The back of his head ached where he smashed it into the pole. The next time he was shocked, The Doctor held a hand between his skull and the wood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t have you passing out on me. Now let’s see what’s under here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Snip! Snip! </span>
  </em>
  <span>His t-shirt was shredded, his dark skin already prickling with goosebumps. His nipples were hard, and for the first time, he felt his cheeks darken in embarrassment. He knew what would happen if the bastard touched them. He started to struggle harder. The Doctor laughed gleefully and pinned him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what could finally be setting you off?” he mused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands slipped free from his cock and splayed over his belly. He watched Joey intently as it traveled further, catching the tension in his jaw as a thumb flicked his nipple. A bit of static jumped through the tender area. Joey gasped, closing his eyes. The electricity went straight down to his crotch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I had brought more tools…” The Doctor said, eyeing his growing cock. “And something to log all this down with. Such fascinating specimens… I was expecting something else under those masks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thumb and forefinger pinched the other nipple. It was rough and unrelenting, pulling at the flesh until it was sore. Tiny shocks fled The Doctor’s fingers every few seconds, and Joey was mortified to find it turning him on. Like, a lot. He tried to school his features but The Doctor grabbed his cock again and gave it a squeeze. Joey cursed behind his gag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always despised being unable to step foot in the survivors’ camp. If I were ever rewarded, I’d always ask to go bag my very own specimen. A flesh and blood, human body that I could experiment with to my heart’s desires. Imagine my surprise when I finally decide to lower my standards, and there’s a fine pair of bodies already within my grasp!” The Doctor laughed, like it was the funniest thing in the realm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey sagged as the killer withdrew completely. His head still forced itself up, hazy vision struggling to focus on The Doctor’s back as he took out his switchblade again. Frank was screaming what sounded like insults as his shirt and boxers were tossed aside. Joey couldn’t see what was going on. He ignored his headache and throbbing erection now tenting his boxers, shouting behind his gag, trying to be as loud and annoying as possible. Frank let out a muffled scream as static pulsed through the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your friend was a lot easier to get up,” The Doctor chuckled, much to Joey’s shame. “But you’re going to make me work for it, aren’t you? I don’t mind a bit of digging. In fact, there are many more ideas I have in mind. And no one can stop me, now can they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank screamed again. His legs jerked in their chains. The Doctor made a pleased noise, and Joey’s stomach rolled at the sound. He was in complete control and he knew it. Joey hadn’t felt like a child in ages. Not since coming here. Not since taking control over the lives of helpless victims and feeling like a vengeful god. The lack of power in the situation made him feel sick. Frank screamed again and that feeling returned tenfold. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was downed without getting in a single hit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he closed his eyes, mind racing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s gonna torture Frank, and then who knows if he’ll go after Jules or Susie! Oh fuck, fuck fuck- </span>
  </em>
  <span>He strained against his bonds. The cuffs cut at his skin, drawing blood. Joey pulled harder, nearly groaning at the sickly ache tearing at his wrists. He didn’t even notice when The Doctor came back to him. Not until a heavy boot stomped on his cock. He grunted and doubled over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This won’t do,” The Doctor was mumbling, yanking at his cuffs to survey the damage. “I need a proper, sterile environment. I’m getting too ahead of myself. Haha, I haven’t been this excited for a new project in ages! And, well, there are two other Legion. I’m sure The Entity won’t mind if I steal these ones for myself. After all, I’ve been doing quite well in my trials. Most likely better than you both combined.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey tried to glare at him, but his heart was racing. The Entity wouldn’t allow that! Would it? He and Frank locked eyes, both sharing the exact same thought. A moment of real fear passed Frank’s face before it hardened and he started to shout again. Joey’s cuffs were unclipped. His sagging body immediately tensed and he threw a savage, mindless punch at their captor. The Doctor giggled from behind him. Joey’s eyes went wide in shock at how fast he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back for the other rodent, but until then, I’ll get you set up in the labs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next thing he knew, he was face-first on the floor with a knee against his back and the cuffs relocking securely. The world spun as he was hefted up by the waist. He clearly realized he was being carried like a survivor - and the worst shame of the night struck him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck off! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tried to scream, thrashing and kicking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor sent another zap of electricity through him, giggling happily as he walked up the stairs. The last thing Joey saw was Frank, shouting for him and struggling before the cellar doors slammed shut. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Quickies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>oops lol posted this on the wrong work! @WendigoHanni thanks for the request!<br/>“Just because I haven't seen it mentioned but Legion/Quinten. I forgot the names but I think Frank.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, sleepy head. Got room for one more?” </p><p>Quentin glared through the blinds in the locker, wondering if he had enough time to hit Frank with the doors. The killer wasn’t taking the game seriously, despite how many times Quentin warned him against disobeying The Entity. But The Legion never liked following rules, now did they? </p><p>“Either throw me over your shoulder, or pretend you didn’t see me,” Quentin snapped. The generator behind Frank was pumping hot. Quentin was a few seconds from finishing it before he tried to hide. “Otherwise, I’m actually trying to do my job.”</p><p>“Ha! <em>Job </em>, he says,” Frank snorted, ripping open the locker door. “Come on, baby, why don’t we take a break? The Boss upstairs won’t mind. I already got two sacrifices!” </p><p>“The Entity will mind. And if David finds us like this?” </p><p>“He’s in the lodge working on a gen,” Frank waved him off, stepping inside so Quen’s back was flush to the red wood. “I think we have a few minutes…”</p><p>The locker door closed shut. Heavy breaths and darkness flooded over Quentin. A warm chest pressed against his own. </p><p>“Frank, seriously, we’re gonna get in trouble.”</p><p>“I already told you,” A tongue flicked out impatiently, licking a stripe up the other’s neck. “We have time. As long as I finish the trial, the spider bitch won’t care. Come on, Quen. I missed you. Didn’t you miss me?”</p><p>Quentin sighed. But yes, he wouldn't deny that he was having a harder and harder time trying to push Frank away.  His cock throbbed. He never had a moment alone at the campfire to take care of himself. But ever since he and Frank started hooking up, in the rare moments he could masturbate, his hand just wouldn’t cut it. </p><p>“Dammit,” he groaned, bucking into the palm against his crotch. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome, or I’d finish this stupid game and go hook myself. If The Entity punishes you, it’s not my fault.”</p><p>Frank smiling against his neck, sucking in his lips for a passionate kick. “You’re always worth the risk.”</p><p>Quentin’s knees went weak. He hated how easily he melted into Frank’s touch, yet loved the way his hands molded against his body. Everything about this delinquent made Quen feel all kinds of crazy. He warred with himself another second before pressing back into the kiss with more vigor. If Frank wanted to play with fire, then fine, that was his choice. Quentin refused to feel guilty if something bad came of it. </p><p>“God, I missed your taste,” Frank breathed. Their arms were tangled together. It quickly became stuffy. Frank shoved a hand down his pants. “Let me get you off.” he said between kisses. “I want to feel you cum while you’re pressed against me.”</p><p>“I don’t want jizz in my pants, man,” Quentin complained. “Last time sucked.”</p><p>Yet the survivor’s hands kept groping, and he pulled Frank tighter as warm fingers began to massage him to life. His fingers curled into the killer’s jacket so tightly, they were shaking. Pleasure was always more intense than pain when you spend day after day dying. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way Frank felt. Especially when he started talking dirty to him. Quentin sucked in a harsh breath. His cock throbbed, the harsh whispers against his ear making him crumble. Frank’s body was the only thing holding him up. </p><p>“You’re so pretty when you’re red-faced. If I could, I’d be bending you over, pounding into your tight hole.”</p><p>“Maybe if you didn’t use every trial with me for a quickie, we’d get rewarded with actual alone time,” Quentin snapped. </p><p>Frank gave his dick a tight squeeze and managed to dig his hand between his cheeks to prod at his asshole. Quentin tried not to grind down. He really did, but even the light intrusion felt amazing. He pushed back on it, groaning as it slipped in past his knuckle. </p><p>“You like these <em>quickies </em>just as much as I do,” Frank said. “And let’s not forget who always gets off on them.”</p><p>Quentin smirked. “I know you jack off to the memories later, pervert.”</p><p>Quentin yelped as two fingers pushed in. The hand on his dick started to work faster, thumbing the head and smearing his precum along the shaft. The friction became incredibly pleasant, but the sloppy noises that followed took Quentin out of the moment. </p><p>“Shit, we’re being loud. David hasn’t finished the gen yet, he might be looking for me-”</p><p>Frank clasped a hand to his mouth. “Breath, Quentin. Breath through your nose. Focus on my hand jerking you off, okay? You get one orgasm in between countless deaths, and you’re gonna enjoy every single one. Look at me.”</p><p>Quentin had latched onto his words, biting his lip as the mask was lifted up and he got to look his lover in the eyes. He was always at a loss for words when he got to see Frank unmasked. Some punk-looking kid not much older than himself, the buzzcut as permanent as Quentin’s uncut curls. It made him look older. So did the intricate tattoos crawling up his neck.</p><p>“Shit, I love you,” Quentin breathed, pushing into his mouth. </p><p>Frank seemed stunned for a moment. Then he kissed back, near savagely as he pressed Quentin against the locker. He had unzipped himself, freeing his hard cock and lining it up clumsily with Quen’s. </p><p>“I love you too,” Frank said, grabbing them both. “Fuck, I love you so much.”</p><p>Quentin bucked into the warmth, grabbing at his face. They both hissed at the slide of hot flesh against hot flesh. </p><p>“Jesus, Frank, I wish you could come to the campfire. I wouldn’t even care if everyone knew, I’d let you fuck me whenever you wanted to. It’s all I think about anymore.”</p><p>Frank grinned. Quentin was suddenly spun around, grunting in the tight space as his face was shoved into wood and a hard cock ground against his ass. Frank looped an arm around to keep jerking him off. He pushed back into Frank’s relentless grinding, praying to The Entity that it’d just let them fuck. Just this once. </p><p>“Frank, hey-wait,” Quentin said, reaching back when the killer started to pull down his pants. “Last time…”</p><p>“I don’t care if I get skewered,” Frank said. “Let me fuck you. Let me talk all kinds of shit in your ear while I fuck into you and jerk you off. After this, I’ll play teacher’s pet, okay? I’ll even hook <em>you </em>if it means we get more time together.”</p><p>Quentin shook his head. Killers weren’t allowed to physically fuck a survivor. “I don’t want to see you die again.”</p><p>“I have to watch you die all the time,” Frank pushed. He rutted again, the hot flesh sliding between Quentin’s ass cheeks. “It won’t bother me, Quen. I’ll wake up in Ormond, good as new. Alone time isn’t guaranteed if I play good. This is the only sure way.”</p><p>“...I’m going to feel guilty about this later,” Quentin sighed, seemingly defeated. “Be rough with me, please.”</p><p>Frank grinned and took him by the hips. His head settled against his hole, pushing past the muscle. The rim only gave a slight flutter before opening. Frank pushed back and forth a little, easing himself inside. </p><p>“I said, <em>be rough </em>,” Quentin snapped. </p><p>He shoved his hips down, fully enveloped the Legion’s cock. Frank gasped, trying to still Quentin’s hips, while the survivor tried to bounce himself back and forth. “I literally get torn to pieces on the daily, Frank. Come on!” </p><p>“Shit, sorry - and fuck you feel good, by the way.” </p><p>“Hehe, so do you.”</p><p>Frank grabbed his hips more firmly and started to thrust into his lover with more enthusiasm. He gave his ass a sharp slap, earning a loud moan from Quentin, whose head twisted to the side with a reaching tongue. Frank latched onto him, groaning into the kiss as he came without warning. Ecstasy shot through his body like fireworks. He felt Quentin unravel in his hand, muscles clenching around his cock and milking him through his climax. </p><p>
  <em>Holy shit, this is better than drugs. </em>
</p><p>Quentin was having the same thought, lost in how own euphoria as he shoved back into Frank as hard as he could. Frank held him, kissing at his neck until they both came down from their high. He knew what was coming next. He heard The Entity grumbling beneath their feet, the claws probably already on their way up to teach him a lesson. </p><p>“Next trial, I’ll be serious as the day we met,” Frank promised. “And when I earn some alone time, I’ll ravage you any way you want. Every position and every hole, I’m gonna destroy you.”</p><p>“Fuck….” Quentin could barely hold himself up. His legs shook violently, his body twitching from his orgasm. “Fuck, I’m gonna be dreaming of this…” </p><p>Frank regretfully peeled himself from Quentin and stepped out of the locker and into the cold, zipping himself up so he had some dignity. Quentin was barely able to hold himself up in the locker, ass presented to the Legion with cum dripping from his hole. His face was flushed, pressed into the wood like he might fall asleep. </p><p>“Sweet dreams, Quen,” Frank felt the claws about to spew from the earth. He closed the locker door so Quentin wouldn’t have to see his death. But when the ground split and dark talons pierced the air, they missed Frank entirely. The Legion stared, mortified, at the several claws stabbed through the locker. </p><p>“Shit- shit! Quentin!” Frank ran forward, hands frantically grabbing at the locker door. He heard a low, dying croak from the other side, then nothing. “Fuck! You bastard! You fuck-face!” He snarled at the claws. “He didn’t do anything wrong, it was me!” </p><p>The claws didn’t say anything. They retracted, glistening red. The body <em>thunked</em> to the ground inside, but Frank didn’t open the locker. He didn’t want to see his lover, bloody and half-naked and probably with a face of shock and fear. </p><p>“He didn’t do shit!” </p><p>The claws snapped forward, missing Frank and striking the ground at his feet. A clear warning. A gen popped on the other side of the map, completed. </p><p>“He didn’t do anything,” Frank said again, lower, trying to breath steadily. </p><p>Several other claws stabbed the ground. More fearing for his newfound weakness' safety than his own, Frank cursed the claws and ran off towards the gen. He barely remembered to yank his mask down so the stupid brit couldn’t see his tears. He didn’t care if Quentin liked the guy. He brandished his knife, and took out his anger in the only way he knew how.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Red Lines</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thanks to @Thatpersonjulie for this request! - “Hey can I request a chapter of a red string of fate with Dwight x David?”</p><p>I've never done a soulmate Au and it was very hard but very rewarding! This chapter is a No Entity AU. And it got waaaaay bigger than intended lol. It heavily features Dwight lore from before he was taken. I enjoyed writing outside the entity's realm for once!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Town wasn’t normally busy at this hour, and that was how Dwight liked it. Early morning, the sun rising over the line of buildings, and street lamps that’d turned off only twenty minutes ago. He sat inside a coffee shop, phone in hand, getting some work done before he actually had to clock in. He didn’t understand why Lazar had him even come into the physical building. All he had to do was create fake profiles and praise their shitty, do-nothing company. He could be doing this stuff on his couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Dwight sipped at his coffee and added the final touches to the profile. He’d have to use it for a few days to fill the feed and make it realistic, but he had several more that were ready for actual posting. He turned his phone off and pocketed it. The morning had barely started and he was already done with today’s work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easiest job of my life..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it worth it? Probably not, but he was too nervous to quit. Pizza delivery was just as bad as being verbally abused by Lazar, but at least the pay was better. Not by much. But it was enough to have extra savings after his rent. Dwight finished the rest of his coffee. With it, came the slight anxiety swirling in his chest. The same feeling he got in anticipation of something terrible. A feeling he got every morning before work. He threw his coffee away and stood, leaving the store. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air was brisk against his face. His breath rolled out in white clouds, dissipating like smoke. He wished he could float away with it. So lost in his head, Dwight didn’t even see the large man before he ran right into his back. He scrambled a few steps away, frightened by the angry glower that loomed over him. The stranger was a big, very scary looking man. Dark eyes peered down a crooked nose. His gaze made Dwight swallow thickly. His heart had skipped a beat when they locked eyes. The man looked really upset. And really scary.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m sorry, I’m still waking up,” Dwight mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made to brush by him and forget this embarrassing blunder ever happened. But the man’s glower softened, a brow raising as he lifted his chin. He regarded Dwight a beat before he grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ain’t a problem. Sorry for mean-muggin’ ya. Force a habit,” the stranger said, surprisingly good-natured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight just nodded and went on his way. He forgot about the stranger by the time he sat down at his desk at Peak 22. There was a meeting today. Lazar was presenting with Rose. It was nothing out of the ordinary. At least, it wasn't supposed to be. But then things went to shit. Rose left, tears in her eyes, after being humiliated. Dwight had beared through the whole meeting with a want to intervene. To tell Lazar to shove off. But he was weak. He sat there like everyone esle and </span>
  <em>
    <span>did nothing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later, he was still replaying Rose’s firing in his head: over and over, wondering why he didn’t stand up for her. He hadn’t taken her seriously when she claimed Lazar was going to throw her under the bus. Why didn’t he believe her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up when Lazar was suddenly leering down at him. His boss had leaned over his desk, a shit-eating grin on his face like he hadn’t just gotten rid of his most competent employee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry, Dwitch, I know Rose was your manager but I had to let her go. She wasn't aligned with our company values."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed the words he wanted to say. No. Not swallowed. That would imply he had any intention of saying them. Dwight just nodded. Because, of course, he wouldn’t stand up for Rose. He couldn’t even stand up for himself. Lazar gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder and moved along. The touch lingered; burning. Dwight decided to pack his things and head home early. He finished his stupid profiles hours ago anyway, and Lazar was holed up in his office. He wouldn’t notice, Dwight reasoned with himself. He stood from his desk and made for the exit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dwight, hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Godammit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dwight still turned with a smile, greeting his co-worker - Ashley. She never spoke to Dwight. She worked on Lazar’s manuscripts, tightening them up and fixing the too-many-to-count errors. She wasn’t friendly, but then again, no one here was. Except Rose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Ashley, what’s up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mean to bug you, but I just had to know,” she was grinning, looking at him like he had a bit of juicy gossip to give up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight glanced around, wondering if she and his coworkers were going to pull a prank. “Know what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s personal, it’s fine, I just,” she spluttered, seemingly not sure how to approach whatever the hell she was going on about. “I just really want to see the person matched with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>is all. I can only imagine what they must look like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Now Dwight was really confused. And hurt. What did she mean by that? “I don’t know what you’re going on about-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your string,” she pointed to his wrist, where a bit of red was peeking out from the cuff of his sleeve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He balked at it, shocked he hadn’t noticed earlier. The sleeve was yanked up, revealing a thin red line that drew up to the crook of his elbow and disappeared. It was a string of fate - a mark you got after meeting your soul mate. He felt stupid for not having noticed it. And even stupider as he wracked his brain for anyone he’d recently met. No one came to mind. Did he just bump into his soulmate and not notice? Did he lose them forever? His whole life, he’d gone thinking he’d never get a red string of fate. Not many people did, and he’d never been one for luck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t even…” he came back to reality, realizing Ashely was watching him with a big grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted. “You’re such a dweeb. It's just like you. Do you even know who it is?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, maybe…” he lied. “I’ve been so busy I guess I didn’t notice…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you better go chase them down,” Ashley said. “If the old blood hound comes sniffing for you, I’ll make up a story about how you went to save some orphans in his name or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just have to promise you’ll show me a picture,” she said with a wink. “And details.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight blushed, both out a want to tell her to mind her business, and his own inability to do so. “Uh, sure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left Peak 22 staring at his wrist. He couldn’t remember when it appeared. It had to be recently. He definitely would have noticed this morning when he was getting dressed. He wasn’t that oblivious, was he? Dwight rubbed at his face, taking the scenic way back to his apartment. He had no car. He used to have a bike. It got run over a few weeks ago by a drunk driver an hour before he had work. Lazar had tore him a new one for being late.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Excuses be damned!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He zipped up his hoodie and started the long walk home - step by step. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight sat down at his usual spot in the coffee shop. He wasn’t in the mood for coffee, and had ordered a tea instead. His stomach cramped painfully with each sip. He set it aside, over half-way full, before he made himself sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a waste of three bucks,” he muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach flipped again. He had to look away from the bronze liquid to steady his nausea, wondering how much of it was caused by his own self-shame. He hadn’t been able to get rid of it since Rose left Peak 22. A quick glance at his wrist made him grimace. There was that stupid red line to worry about too. He didn’t want to care that he may have just bypassed his soulmate… but dammit, it had kept him up all last night. He’d almost called in sick to work, but knew Lazar would probably show up on his doorstep to take his temperature himself. He'd done it before. But then again, Dwight could just say he was letting a friend take care of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should’a called in…” he whimpered, miserable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight nearly fell out of his chair. He jolted the table and his tea nearly fell over the edge, snatched up just in time by a familiar stranger - the man he bumped into the other day. Dwight couldn’t help but blush in embarrassment, taking the offered tea with a mumbled </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘thanks.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” the stranger laughed, and Dwight’s face might have turned another shade darker at the sound. “I didn’t mean ta’ scare ya. This seat taken?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, n-no,” Dwight stammered. “Did you need it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man chuckled again. “I was askin’ if I could have a seat with ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! S-sure!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. Name’s David, by the way.” He took the chair, swiveling it around so he could cross his arms over the back of the seat. “Was hopin’ I’d catch you back out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me? Why?” Dwight wondered why he could no longer form full sentences. “I mean, do we know each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I figured you had something to do with this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David bared his forearm, lifting his cuffed sleeve to show off a red line - just like his. Dwight felt his tongue go dry. He lifted his own arm, as if showing off his line would make this more believable. Was this handsome hunk of a man really supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>soulmate. He wanted to laugh. It had to be a mistake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight swallowed before he could ask: “It-it appeared yesterday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep, and I’m bettin’ yours did too. I noticed just as soon as I got home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I noticed, like, yesterday evening… </span>
  </em>
  <span>“M-me too! I just didn’t… I ran into so many people yesterday, it was impossible to tell-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it, thinking back on how I felt when I first saw you,” David interrupted. Dwight stammered to a halt. “I ain’t the kind for mushy words or nothing, but fuck, did my heart skip a beat. I never thought I’d meet my soulmate. Never thought he’d be as handsome as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>god </span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dwight was going to melt on the spot. He couldn’t handle this. Was his heart coming out of his throat? It felt like it. “I-I… uh…” He cursed his tangled tongue and fried brain. He hid his shaky hands under the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David’s grin turned lop-sided. “Sorry, am I comin’ off too strong? I’m kinda forward. Don’t mean to be off-puttin'. You okay?” His smile lessened, a brow quirking as he leaned forward. “You look a little…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-sorry, I just- you’re intimidating is all - I mean! Not in a bad way! Like, in a hot way! I mean - no! Oh god, this is so embarrassing-” Dwight buried his face in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud laugh escaped David. It was deep and sudden, making Dwight jump from his hiding spot behind his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks! You got a name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something of a chuckle escaped Dwight’s throat. “Um, it’s Dwight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleasure to meet you, Dwight,” David said, all mock-formal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, pleasure’s all mine,” Dwight tried to say cooly. He nearly choked on his own voice. David just grinned and took out his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I gotta head off to work, but if you’d like, we can trade numbers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure!” Dwight scrambled for his own phone before realizing how eager he was acting. He coughed into his fist as he opened his screen, David smirking as he read off his digits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… I’ll text you sometime?” Dwight asked as the other made to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anytime you’d like,” David said. “We’ll have to plan for a date, won’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight could only nod. His tongue was dead in his mouth. David gave him a wink, and turned around, striding down the sidewalk with more confidence than Dwight had felt in a lifetime. As soon as David rounded the corner, he went lifeless, slumping into the table and wondering what the heck just happened. He didn’t want to go to Peak 22. He wanted to go home and go to bed, so his mind could process the sudden change in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at the red line until he was forced to go to work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Soooo?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight didn’t want to look away from his computer screen. But it would be rude to ignore Ashley, who had slid up to his desk as soon as he sat down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” he feigned ignorance instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashley scoffed. “Come on, Dwight. You know what I mean. I covered your ass yesterday, you owe me details.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doubted that she even talked to Lazar, let alone saved his ass. He didn’t call her out. He just shrugged. “I didn’t meet them yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted like she didn’t believe him. “Yeah, okay, well… when you do, you know where my desk is at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just nodded. Ashley went back to the small group of coworkers chatting over coffee. She kept shooting looks over at him, everyone obviously wondering about the red on his wrist. He self-consciously tugged his sleeve lower and went back to his screen. These fake profiles wouldn’t make themselves. He barely got through completing the first one when Ashley wandered back over. But this time, her features were tight, like she’d smelled something rotten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lazar is asking for you. But be careful, he’s in a particular mood today…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, thanks,” Dwight gulped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what she meant by </span>
  <em>
    <span>particular. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He had many particular moods, each one worse than the last. It felt like a game of russian roulette as he approached the office and gave a weak knock. Lazar told him to come inside and shut the door behind him. As soon as he did, Dwight felt like he’d locked himself into a steel cage with a snake. A snake currently leaning back in his chair, legs crossed and propped on the expensive red wood of his desk. He snapped to attention, gesturing Dwight to take a seat. Lazar was grinning, but it was stiff on his face, like a heavy stone. Dwight wasn’t sure what to make of it. He warily sat down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-you wanted to see me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dwitch! I’ve been hearing some rumors around the office,” he leaned forward, legs sliding to the floor. “Is it true? You really get your red string of fate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” This felt really inappropriate. He could tolerate Ashley prying in his personal life, but this was his boss. He nervously fidgeted with his tie. “Yeah… yeah, um why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lazar grinned before standing up. Dwight sat frozen as his boss smoothly wandered behind him, placing heavy hands on his shoulders. Dwight resisted the urge to shrug them off. He couldn’t help how rigged he was, or the disgust that flickered across his face as Lazar began to rub slightly. Dwight’s heart pounded in his chest, too scared to say anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to congratulate you! I never thought our very own Dwitch would be one of the lucky few to find a soul mate. So? Who’s the lucky person?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, that’s… I, uh, haven’t actually met them,” he floundered for an excuse. “I… I didn’t notice bumping into them I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lazar was silent a moment before he let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Really, Dwitch? That’s just like you, not to even notice! Haha!” The slight tension in Lazar’s voice faded - tension that Dwight hadn’t been aware of until now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hehe, yeah…” Dwight rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I um, was busy checking the profiles on my phone or something and they must have just passed by...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Dwitch, I saw your IQ test. I know it’s a bit harder for you to go through the day to day than someone like me. You don’t have to try and impress me. So what if you just bypassed your soul mate. Doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of other fish in the sea, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hands on his shoulders firmed up. Lazar’s thumbs rubbed barely discernible circles there, and Dwight stiffened up in terrible discomfort. He wanted to slap his hands away. Wanted to tell him to stop being weird and mind his own business. Instead, he let Lazar rub his shoulders, mind scrambling for anything else to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, I guess. Um, I should go back to work…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lazar leaned in close, his chin hovering over Dwight’s shoulder. His voice felt like it was digging into his ear drums - a maggot with intentions other than just mindless eating. “I have something I need to speak with you about. Come to my office before you clock out, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“O-okay…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Lazar’s fingers tightened almost painfully before letting go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight took a shaky stand and left the room, sitting at his computer, feeling numb and empty in a way he didn’t like. The anticipation of 4:00 pm was going to be the death of him. Ashley didn’t approach him again. He noticed her shooting strange glances in his direction. When someone asked if he was okay, he went to the bathroom to wash his too-white face and took a break in a locked stall. He sat in there until it was nearly the end of the work day. His stomach did flip-flops. He didn’t want to be alone with Lazar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just pretend like I forgot,” he muttered. His bag was at his desk. He could just grab it and go, a few minutes before his boss expected him. Dwight gingerly left the bathroom, stumbling to a halt when he saw that his desk was already occupied. Lazar was leaning at the edge, arms cross and face pinched like he’d been waiting for more than a few minutes. Dwight pretended he had a stomach cramp, rubbing gingerly at his gut as he approached and with a sheepish, embarrassed grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-hey, I think I ate something bad for l-lunch, I th-think I need to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dwitch!” Lazar acted like he hadn’t even heard him. An arm clasped around his shoulders. Dwight felt like tucking into himself as he was carted towards the office. He looked around for help, catching Ashley’s gaze as she was packing up her stuff. She looked away, putting her thermos into her bag and bidding them both a goodnight as she slipped by - out into the freedom of the street. Dwight was forced through the wooden door and made to sit on the shitty, back-breaking swivel chair across from Lazar’s cushioned, leather armchair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So tell me, Dwitch. You’re enjoying it here right? Peak 22 is treating you well?” Lazar asked. He hadn’t taken his own seat. He leaned against his desk, on Dwight’s side, legs nearly touching his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yes, sir,” Dwight mumbled. “It’s a really nice job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it is! Beats delivering pizza I bet!” He laughed at his own joke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight felt his stomach turn a little. He wasn’t aware that Lazar knew of his last job. He hadn’t even submitted a resume when applying to Peak 22, just an impromptu interview and a lot of praising Lazar’s genius. Dwight figured Rose had mentioned the job before. She must have. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah, for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, I wanted to see how you were doing? Is the work too much for you? Do you need anything to make it easier?” Lazar’s tone seemed concerned, but there was something lingering just under the words. A tone of voice that made Dwight feel like walking on eggshells. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, n-no, everything is great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure. You know, you’ve been with us for nearly a year now. I really do want to make sure you're comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah. I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Good. That’s what I like about you, Dwitch. You never complain or ask for more. Content with what you have! Rose should have been more like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up. You were cruel to her. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Oh… uh, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is why I’d like you to fill her position. Well, not all of it, but some of the things that she used to help me with. Things I think you’d be just right for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How do I say no? How do I decline politely? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I… I’m pretty happy where I’m at…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense! You’ll do great. I even have your new schedule already printed out for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight felt ill as Lazar handed him a still-warm paper from his desk, the ink smudging slightly under his touch - cheap, ineffective. Just like everything else in the office. He had to re-read it a few different times. He was only doing his Story Hook Supervisor tasks for a few hours in the morning. After that, from 11:00 am to 5:30 pm, he was to be “assisting Lazar in personal and official matters.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lazar chuckled fondly, like he was some dumb child. “I know you get your work done much quicker before five, so I figured we outta put you to better use. We can even start your new duties tonight if you’d like. I have some brochures that need to be cut. You can stay an extra hour to do that for me, can’t ya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just want to go home, actually.. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“No. No, I don’t mind at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another hand came to pat him on the shoulder before sending him on his way, stack of hard papers in hand. He didn’t get home for another two hours, all the while, acting like it didn’t bother him one bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p><b>David:</b> <em><span>I’m free tomorrow night, if you’d like to grab dinner?</span></em></p><p>
  <span>Dwight had taken half the morning to come up with a reply to David’s impromptu text. He felt stupid no matter what kind of mess of an answer he came up with, eventually settling on: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dinner sounds great! I’m off at 5:30</span>
  </em>
</p><p><b>David:</b> <em><span>If you’d like, I can pick you up after work, or we can meet up. What do you like to eat?</span></em></p><p>
  <span>Dwight felt butterflies in his stomach. But people would gossip if David showed up at Peak 22. So he just said he’d meet him at a burger joint they mutually agreed on, wishing him a good day at work. He blushed at David’s winky face, putting his phone away after checking the clock. It was almost past eleven. Which meant he was expected in Lazar’s office to help him with meaningless, stupid tasks. He sighed. The half-finished profile on his computer seemed too daunting to complete. He turned off the screen and forced himself to the main office. He knocked on the door, entering when told to come in. Lazar was watching some motivational video on his phone. He paused it, still half-distracted as he pointed to the folder at the end of his desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dwitch. I need you to take that and deliver it to Zippo Signs on South Street. It’s the design for the new billboard I’m putting up downtown. Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight nodded. Lazar knew he had no car. Not even his bike. He didn’t complain though, just took the folder, leaving the room as the motivational speaker’s voice once more filled the space. Ashley called to him as he made for the exit. For once, he ignored her, just wanting out of the suffocating building. Zippo’s was nearly an hour walk. So he stuffed his hands in his pockets, pulled up his hoodie, and tried to enjoy the little bit of freedom he had. At least the light above him wasn’t florescent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone buzzed. He wanted to ignore it, but was too worried over it being Lazar. Instead, it was David. He had to skip on the date tonight because of work-related business, but promised he was free any other time this week. Dwight’s heart deflated a bit. He understood as well as anyone that work got in the way, but the date had been something to look forward to. Something to hold onto to get through the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Dwight: </b>
  <em>
    <span>I understand, no worries. We can meet up tomorrow night, same place, same time? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>David: </b>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t wait until then, gorgeous. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight blushed fiercely, shoving his phone away. His chest felt a tiny bit lighter, and the walk to Zippo’s went by quicker. The design for the billboard was ugly as hell. It featured their classic ‘story hook’ phenomenon under the name of Peak 22 - </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Innovation, Success, Future.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The clerk had tried to hide their smile at how stupid and pretentious the whole thing looked. Dwight just paid for the service fee that Lazar neglected to pay, knowing he probably wasn’t going to be reimbursed, and headed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was right, of course. Lazar didn’t even thank him when he came back, receipt in hand, nervously asking if he was going to be paid back. Lazar just laughed at him like he told a funny joke and asked him to watch this great motivational speech he found on the web. Dwight forced himself to nod and make comments throughout the entire forty minute pile of dog shit. Then Lazar told him he had nothing left to do and sent him home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight laid in bed that night, skipping dinner, work clothes still on, before falling into a fitful sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was almost time for his date. It felt like the day was dragging on, especially with Lazar’s incessant complaining about Zippo’s “mistake” in the design. There was no mistake. Lazar was just realizing how ugly it was, and like always, was pushing the blame on another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, really, Dwitch. What kind of morons are they hiring down there anyway?” Lazar scoffed. “Bunch a damn idiots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight hummed in agreement, looking at the clock. He had a few minutes left to go, maybe more if Lazar wouldn’t shut up. He’d finished his printing duties an hour ago, and had just been sitting in Lazar’s office, feeling awkward and weird as he listened to the man ramble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You even listening to me, Dwitch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight nearly jumped out of his skin. He nodded frantically. “Y-yeah, sorry. I’m meeting someone tonight, so I’m distracted.” He regretted telling the truth as soon as it left his mouth. Lazar didn’t continue on his rant. He studied Dwight in an unsettlingly scrutinizing manner. Studying him, maybe. Dwight gulped under the hard gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, sorry, I shouldn’t be so distracted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lazar grinned smoothly. “It’s okay, Dwitch. People like you can’t focus on one thing consistently. I can go on for hours, well into the night. It’s how I built my empire, you know. Maybe I can give you some tips on my lifestyle. You can stay a little longer, can’t you? I’m sure your friend won’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course they wouldn’t. Work is important after all, they’ll understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually no, I do need to k-keep this date-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, right here. Let’s have a chat. I feel like we hardly know each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight was shakily gathering his things. He felt like he was going to be sick, going against what Lazar wanted, but he didn’t want to miss seeing David. He’d feel like an asshole if he was the one to cancel the second in a row. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m sorry, really, but I have to go. I’ll come in early if you need me, okay?” Dwight’s voice wobbled a bit, especially when Lazar’s smile dropped. “Um, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I understand. You’ve got a life outside of work,” Lazar waved him off, sitting back in his chair. “Go on. Just let me ask you one thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this your soul mate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt like he was going to be lectured. “Uh, yeah. He ran back into me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, sometimes even soul mates aren’t a guaranteed thing. Just because you both have a red line on your wrist doesn’t mean you’ll be compatible. You can’t put everything into mindless fate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, um. That’s why we’re gonna try to get to know each other tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kind of a slutty thing to do, if you ask me, Dwitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight’s face went beet red. “What?! N-no, not like that! We’re going out to get burgers, that’s all!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha! You should see your face. If you say so. Just try to take my advice to heart, okay? And I guess I can let you leave this once, but that’s because you’ve been such a good assistant. Come in an hour early tomorrow for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight nodded, even though he was a bit shocked by the sudden demand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I did tell him I’d come in early… so there’s no reason to complain... </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy. I’ll see you bright and early.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight blushed in embarrassment and turned around, thanking Lazar for letting him leave “early.” He felt humiliated, but the outside air helped cool his burning face. He had plenty of time to reach the burger place. He still made sure to hasten his pace, both excited and nervous to meet his date. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The burger joint was practically empty. Dwight got there twenty minutes early. He was surprised to see David already there too, scrolling through his phone, face lit up by the screen from where he leaned against the wall. Dwight paused. David was very handsome, sure, but Lazar’s words rang through his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if that was all there was to his attraction? What if he didn’t like David personally? The man had acted rather aggressively when he thought he’d shouldered him in the street. Dwight suddenly became flustered and wondered if he should turn around. David took that moment to look up and greet him with a wave, a smile, and a call of his name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Dwight. Hope you're hungry, ‘cause I’m buying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Uh, thanks! That’s really nice of you,” Dwight smiled, hiding his butterflies. “And yeah, I’m starved!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No line, no people. We can eat here or take it ta’ go. Whatever you’d like, I’m easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, here’s cool. We can sit outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David didn’t mention how cold it was, and for that, Dwight was grateful. He needed the air to keep his face from getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>red. They took their spots outside after ordering, sipping on their drinks, wading through the initial awkwardness that came with a first date. Dwight chatted about himself, where he worked and what he did. David didn’t really get it, but that was okay, neither did he. Dwight learned that David worked as a bouncer for some club at night, and security for the bar next door during the day. Jobs that required some serious bravado, which Dwight never had. It kinda turned him on. His eyes flickered to David’s muscular arms. He suddenly wished they were somewhere more private. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like somethin’ ya see?” David smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hot flush coated Dwight’s face. He laughed nervously behind his hand, looking away. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dwight,” David leaned forward, voice sincere. “I don’t mind. Really. You ain’t got nothin’ to be embarrassed about. Though I think you’re pretty cute when you get all flustered like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight laughed again, unable to do anything but make the situation more awkward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I’m being too much, you can always tell me to stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no,” Dwight said. The butterflies had multiplied in his guts, making him feel nearly ill. It felt like anxiety. But it wasn’t. He liked it. “I really d-don’t mind. It’s just been a while since I’ve been on a date. It’s nice, just talking to someone. Getting to know them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m enjoyin’ myself too.” David said. He reached across the table, offering his hand, and Dwight took it, smiling as a thumb rubbed over the crest of his knuckles. The fears that Lazar had planted in his head felt miles away. In fact, he grew a little angry, thinking back on his boss’ intrusion into his life. So what if he wanted to sleep with his soul mate? What did it matter to Lazar? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’d like…” Dwight began nervously. “We can go back to my place, maybe watch a movie? I have ice cream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ice cream, huh?” David smirked. “Well, who can say no to that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight was forced to admit he didn’t have a car. David didn’t seem to mind one bit. He didn’t pester Dwight with a million questions as to </span>
  <em>
    <span>why? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Didn’t call him a moron for losing his bike. Dwight wondered if his bar was set so low, that all anyone had to do to get into his pants was be nice to him. It deflated his mood a bit, and made him anxious as he slid into the passenger's side of David’s car. It was nice. The seats were black and stylized with red thread, complete with a heater that Dwight had too much fun messing with. David cracked a grin, letting him ramble on about how cool it was that he could warm his butt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight flushed red when he realized how much he was talking. David just chuckled and told him he liked his voice. Dwight went even more red, weakly directing David back to his place. He was happy he cleaned up a few days ago. Hopefully, he hadn’t left any pizza boxes out on the counter. That would be horribly embarrassing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this it?” Asked David. Dwight nodded and he pulled in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ain’t much, but it’s home,” Dwight said. The place wasn’t very nice. In fact, David’s car was probably a lot nicer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He led him inside, setting their leftovers in the fridge and asking David if he’d like something to drink. They both ended up with beer, hanging out on the couch with the television on low volume. Dwight had no idea what was playing. He and David had just started to talk, and it was like the rest of the world was behind them. Dwight snorted into his beer as he was told a story of drunken men trying to get into the club, who David convinced to go next door and watch a movie to sober up instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David, surprisingly, didn’t have a lot of stories about beating the crap out of people. Or he seemed to know that Dwight didn’t enjoy listening to that kind of stuff. David just told silly stories about being bribed with KFC or how a bachelorette party accidentally nailed him in the temple with a loose champagne cork. Dwight chuckled into his beer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your work life sounds exciting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is, but you get used to it after a while. Routine and all that. What about you?” David asked. “You enjoy your work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was hard to say. Dwight immediately thought of Lazar and felt a cold chill run up his spine. He thought of his co-workers who belittled him and gossiped. He thought of Rose, and his weakness - his inability to stand up for himself. And here David was, telling him all kinds of stories about acting in the face of danger like it was part of his daily chores. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, I understand,” David redirected, seeming to realize Dwight wasn’t interested in the topic. “You just go there to pay the bills. But what do you like to do? For fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight hesitated. “Not much, to be honest.” He rubbed the back of his head, smiling nervously. “Hehe, you’re so interesting to listen to, and here I am, boring you to death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David grinned broadly. “Boring me? I’ve been having a great time, Dwight. Don’t worry so much about what I think, okay? I really do like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They paused. Dwight felt a flush redden his cheeks, leaning in towards David before he could stop himself. David blinked in initial surprise. It was cute, Dwight thought. Then David leaned down to meet him halfway. The line on his wrist pulsed. Dwight felt like his heart was skipping beats, making it hard to hear anything beyond the rush of blood. David’s hands came up to play at his waist. Dwight did the same, tugging at David’s shirt almost timidly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay with this?” David asked, their breaths mingling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight was nodding before he finished the question. “More than anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David’s face softened in surprise. He pressed back in for another kiss, going slow, working his tongue back inside and exploring Dwight’s mouth. He held his chin, titling his head slightly, while Dwight’s hands timidly worked their way under the bouncer’s shirt. Feeling the hard abs beneath, Dwight became increasingly aware of how out of shape he was. This made it difficult to ignore his embarrassment. It’d been simmering under his desire. Waiting for the perfect time to strike. Dwight wrestled with his insecurities. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kind of a slutty thing to do, if you ask me, Dwitch.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to ruin this. But his hands had started to shake. He tried to still them against warm flesh, but David had gently taken his wrists, pulling back. There was a look of concern on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you okay? You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m o-ok-kay. I’m s-s-sorry, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of that,” David said. He settled Dwight back onto the couch, both of them half-hard and still out of breath from the initial excitement. “You don’t have’ta apologize for needin’ to stop. You shouldn’t push yourself. And I don’t mind taking things slow, you know. I really just love being in your company. Whether or not it’s just talking to ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight was still shaking, but his mind had stopped racing. Not completely, but it was hard not to be dazzled by David’s calming voice. He looked so sincere when he said it, holding Dwight’s hand not too firmly, keeping a palm open so he could easily slide his grip away. Dwight liked the feel of that thumb over his knuckles though. He focused on it. Focused, breathed, and nodded. He didn’t want to ruin this date, but David was right. He didn’t need to push himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-thanks, David. That means a l-lot. I really do like you, I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to explain yourself. If you’d like, we can watch a movie or talk more. Or I can go, if you need space. It wouldn’t harm my feelings a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight was quiet for a moment. He worried that he was being rude, but the words had caught him off guard. David mistook the hesitation as a rejection, and apologized again, beginning to say that they could call it a night if he was tired. Dwight reached out and grabbed his hand, flustered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no, I’m s-sorry. I’m just… you’re…” his face went red, and Dwight thought back to the few boyfriends he’d had in college. Pushy, aggressive, mean. “You’re nothing but nice to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David blinked, confused. “Is that… that not a bad thing, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Dwight flushed again. God, of course he was making this whole thing awkward. When right then, they could have been fucking on his couch. Dwight could have slapped himself silly. “It’s kinda s-stupid, but, it’s surprising is all. I’m just…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nervous? Embarrassed? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“...I get anxious easily. I feel like I might do something wrong, hehe,” he laughed awkwardly. “I really like you, David. I do. And I want t-to continue our date. But..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David’s frowned. He ran a thumb over Dwight’s knuckles again, and the story hook supervisor focused on the feeling. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to how comforting it felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever’ll make you comfortable, Dwight, just let me know,” David said. “I’d never push ya into anything you don’t want, okay? I promise you that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight nodded. He’d hold onto that promise, and felt, deep in his heart, that he could trust it. “C-can we just… cuddle?” he asked. “I mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An arm gently slinked around his shoulders. Dwight stiffened in surprise, and David made to move back, but Dwight quickly leaned into the hard, warm body. The arm fell back over him. Hesitantly. Dwight didn’t want to be treated like a wounded animal, no, but he did appreciate David taking his feelings into consideration. It was obvious that the man was scared of making him uncomfortable, and that alone made Dwight’s gut do little flip-flops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” David asked, tucking him closer to his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight tried to loosen the tension from his body as he nodded. He was still nervous, but it felt nice to lay like this. He forced himself to relax, and soon, he was breathing in David’s cologne and natural musk, watching some old sitcom and chuckling at dumb jokes alongside his soulmate. The tension of the previous moment was forgotten. Dwight’s nerves had fizzled out, replaced with a pleasant buzz of contentment. He wasn’t at work. He wasn’t lying in bed, dreading work. He was just here, with a man he was excited to get to know, and eventually, hopefully, fall in love with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight’s eyes lulled. He fell asleep to David’s thumb rubbing circles over his knuckles.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dwight jerked awake, in his own bed. He hadn’t realized he had even crawled under his covers. He was still in his work clothes, but his glasses were neatly set on the table, along with a glass of water. Faintly recalling David helping him to bed, he wandered into the living room. His extra blanket and pillow from the closet had been folded and placed on the back of the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He recalled David telling him that he worked early hours at the bar, when he wasn’t doing late night shifts outside. His hours were all over the place, and it would make it difficult to meet up as much as they wanted. Dwight wished neither of them had work today. Then they could cuddle in bed until the sun went down. Daydreaming of future dates, Dwight showered and dressed himself. He got to work with just enough time to clock in. He felt happier than he had in a long while. </span>
  <span>He sent David a good morning text. David was quick to text back, and Dwight blushed at the reply - wishing him well and telling him he was missed. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Dwight:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I miss you too. I had a really good time last night!</span>
  </em>
</p><p><b>David:</b> <em><span>Me too, I’d love to meet up again soon. </span></em></p><p>
  <span>Dwight was thinking of a reply when his phone buzzed again. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>David: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>I’m getting coffee before my shift. I can bring you a cup if you’d like, and it’d be an excuse to see you ;)</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>Dwight grinned.</span> <span>He hid it behind his hand. He saw Ashley peering at him from across the room, talking to Jonesy. He spun in his chair, knowing they were talking about him. He felt a bit anxious to do so, but decided that he didn't care. Maybe Ashley would finally shut up if she saw just how handsome David actually was. He quickly sent a text:</span><em><span> Yes please! :) You know where Peak 22 is at? </span></em></p><p>
  <span>He put his phone away before anyone noticed his stupid, goofy smile. He had profiles to make. His screen barely turned on before a hand slammed down on his desk. Dwight yelped, attracting the attention of a few other employees. Lazar was looming over him. He looked upset, his lips set in a tight line and his eyes narrowed dangerously behind his glasses. Dwight gulped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-sir?” he asked nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My office. Now.” Lazar turned on his heel and stalked to his door. Dwight quickly followed, unwilling to make him wait. His heart was practically pounding out of his chest. He ran yesterday’s work through his head, meticulously trying to remember if he made some kind of mistake. He forced the door closed behind him. The click of the knob made him flinch. He could feel the heavy weight of the room. Lazar was leaning against his desk, glaring, pointing to the chair and ordering Dwight to sit. Dwight sat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I-” Dwight couldn’t get his question out. Lazar slammed his hand on his desk again. Dwight jerked in his seat, then shut up, head down. Lazar let him simmer in silence before he finally spoke. His voice was cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had nothing but high hopes for you, Dwitch. This year you’ve been with us, I noticed how hard you’ve been trying to please me. But today…” he shook his head, scoffing. “Last night, you made me a promise. And you broke it. I don’t take disloyalty lightly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-promise?” Dwight’s face went pale. He didn’t remember making a promise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You offered yourself to show up early today, Dwitch. Even after I let you leave early last night to go on your little date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight felt shame flood him. He didn’t know why. He wanted to ask Lazar how he even knew what he’d been doing, or why it mattered. But he only cowered, unable to speak up for himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t have you being so distracted right now. We need to be on the top of our game! The marketing industry is always moving. It’s never resting, and so neither can we. You understand what I’m saying, Dwitch?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight didn’t, but he nodded anyway, scared of being fired on the spot. But this wasn’t Lazar’s MO. Had he wanted to throw Dwight out into the street, he’d have made it a public spectacle. Dwight realized that he was just going to have to bear through his lecture, and afterwards, try not to be so distracted. As if on cue, his phone gave a buzz. Someone had texted him. His hand itched to check if it was David. Lazar stopped talking. The vein in his forehead twitched and he held out his hand, not unlike an upset parent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hand it over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t ask again. Hand it over. Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight wasn’t sure why he handed his phone over, but he did. Lazar’s voice scared him. As soon as it was exchanged, Lazar threw his arm around to the desk, smashing the screen right on the hard, wooden edge. Dwight stared in shock as Lazar beat his phone to shards and bits, grunting from the exertion, like he was taking out his anger on the gadget. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“L-lazar, s-stop!” Dwight shouted. He stood up, chair scraping along the floor as he reached for his phone. But it was in pieces. Lazar let it fall onto the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been nothing but my good, little worker until that line appeared,” Lazar said. Dwight started to back away. Lazar stalked towards him, slowly, predatory. “I don’t want to see you getting distracted, Dwitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not… you’re scaring me…” Dwight’s back hit the door. He fumbled for the knob, but a hand grabbed his arm. Dwight threw out an elbow. It hit Lazar right in the face and his boss let go, just enough for Dwight to open the door. Ashley was talking to Jonesy by his desk. She and him looked up in shock as Dwight stumbled out the doorway, tripping over his own shoelace in his rush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dwight, what-?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call 911! Lazar’s fucking crazy-!” Dwight choked, words cut off as Lazar grabbed him by the back of his collar, his tie cinching so harshly against his throat, it made it impossible to even scream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lazar put him in a chokehold. Dwight tried to hold onto the doorway as he was dragged backwards, trying and failing to ask Ashley for help. He could see her and Jonesy still in shock. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why weren’t they doing anything? Why weren’t they helping him?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ash-!” He choked half her name out. Dwight realized that Lazar was shouting something at his employees, screaming that they were lazing around on his dime. It had attracted attention. All six employees were watching. But no one was doing anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone get the fuck back to work!” Lazar snarled. “You wanna end up like this fucking slacker?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight screamed hoarsely as he was shaken. He begged someone to call the police. His tie was pulled again. He stopped breathing. Those who were more timid immediately slunk from view. Ashley still sat frozen on the desk, even as Jonesy spun around in his chair and went back to his keyboard. Dwight tried to catch her eye. He kept mouthing for help, feeling blue in the face and faint in the head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got something to say?” Lazar asked her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a deranged note to his voice. Ashley shook her head and went back to her desk. Dwight was dragged back into the office. He wheezed for help as the door was shut and the lock turned. Lazar was confident that none of his employees would call the police. And with a sick feeling in his gut, so was Dwight. He gasped for air as soon as he was released. But Lazar kept him pinned to the desk with his own body. He was tearing at his shirt. Dwight screamed for him to stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lazar started to choke him. Dwight did pass out this time, blacking out for several seconds as the world around him faded in and out. Something harsh slapped his face. A raging headache brought him back to reality. Lazar had ripped Dwight’s shirt clean off his body. He was on his back on the desk, Lazar between his legs, his top buttons loosened and his face holding a look of unraveling anger. Dwight’s wrists were tied with his necktie. He fruitlessly tried to shove Lazar away, crying out again for anyone in the office to do the right thing. He heard a cubicle phone ring. Someone answered it like they weren’t ignoring an ongoing assault. Lazar shoved his hand over Dwight’s mouth harshly, hearing it himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking ruin their call,” Lazar hissed. “I had work that needed to be done this morning. And you weren’t here to do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight kept shaking his head. Tears were falling down his cheeks, glasses askew. Lazar slapped him, letting go of his mouth. Dwight didn’t call for help again. Both fearful of Lazar and knowing it’d be hopeless. He started to cry instead. His boss grinned above him, a mean, cruel grin not unlike his bullies in highschool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not gonna get out of trouble, crying like a pussy, Dwitch. You were with your soulmate last night, right? How did it go? Were a little slut for him?” Lazar accented his words with a pump of his hips. Dwight let out a frightened screech. Lazar was hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no! No! W-we c-cuddled! Th-that’s all!” Dwight stammered. He held his bound hands before his face, as if hoping to block out the world. Lazar tugged them upward. His grip was tight enough to bruise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! You expect me to believe that?” Lazar played with Dwight’s belt buckle. “Little whore. That ugly brute’s not even your soulmate, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight, beneath his panic, wondered how Lazar knew his soulmate was a man. And yes, David could be described as a brute, but he was in no way ugly. A flare of anger went through Dwight and he tried to lift his leg and kick at Lazar’s hip. His leg was grabbed and thrown into the side of desk a few times. It throbbed painfully. Dwight sobbed as he let it fall limply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw you take him home to fuck him. I should have followed you both and killed him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight closed his eyes. He was slapped again. Dwight forced himself to look up at the deranged man. His head hurt so badly, he thought he might throw up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” Lazar snarled. “Your place is here, serving me. I’m your real soul mate. Even if we aren’t connected by a stupid, fucking line. I felt it when we met. That spark everyone always talks about. That flame, where a cold wick once sat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight shook, only able to stare in terrified shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were so meek. Doing what I said. Trying so hard to be good for me. You never even correct me when I say your name wrong, like you’re scared to be punished. Everything about you is perfect, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dwight.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m n-not-t your s-soul-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lazar held a hand back over his mouth. He fully pulled away Dwight’s belt, and started to lower the hem of his jeans, teasingly slow. Dwight screamed behind his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was never going to let you leave anyway.” Lazar continued. “Even if you quit. I’ve known for a long time that you were mine. I’ll have to get rid of that damned line on your wrist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight didn’t know what that meant, but he begged Lazar not to do whatever he had cooking in that head of his. Lazar just yanked his pants down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do that later. First…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand crept to his underwear. Dwight gasped as Lazar palmed him. It lasted only a few seconds before the familiar voice called out across the building. He heard Ashley say something to him, and shoved Lazar’s hand away with all his might. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dav-!” He grunted as he was thrust back into the desk. Lazar started to strangle him. Dwight claws at his wrists, but Lazar’s grip was like iron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stupid, little fuck!” Lazar seethed. “Shut the fuck up!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dwight?! Open this door! One of you call the damned cops!” That was David’s voice for sure. The office door was banging loudly. He was throwing himself against it. Dwight started to fight back as hard as he could. He didn’t want to die here. He wanted to go on a second date. He wanted to watch more episodes of that shitty sitcom with David, cuddling on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The energy began to leave him. Dwight’s hands stopping grasping. His eyes began to lose their vision, sight going dark. That was when Lazar finally let him go. Dwight gasped for breath, coughing and limp as his boss drew close to his face, whispering in his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s him, right? The man you cheated on me with?” He asked darkly. Dwight tried to shake his head. He was too weak to manage that. “Why don’t you lie here like the lazy fuck you are, and watch me kill him. Then, after I get one of the interns to clean up his body, I’m teaching you a lesson in loyalty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight just cried, despite how painful it was to do so. Lazar had gotten up. He was shuffling around his desk, pulling something from his drawer. He heard metal scraping against wood. Lazar’s body slipped past him. David was still trying to force his way in. The wood was cracking. It sounded like it’d give any second. Lazar pulled up his gun and aimed it at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ngh…” Dwight tried to protest. He couldn’t get the words out. He made himself stand though, only to fall right off the desk and onto the ground, pants around his ankles, underwear halfway off his hips. He felt pathetic, only able to watch as the door finally gave way. David’s stony face widened in shock at both his soulmate on the floor and the gun leveled at his face. Lazar was grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be David,” he greeted. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lazar. Dwight’s real soulmate. And you’re the fake that I’m going to kill and bury near a barn fifty miles outside the city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David opened his mouth. The gun went off twice. Dwight screamed hoarsely, reaching out in a jolt of unfiltered terror as David fell backwards. Lazar laughed, returning the gun to his desk. The door was open. A few employees were looking in, wide-eyed, while Dwight continued to scream. He didn’t care that he was in his underwear. David was dying on the ground. He sobbed as he tried to crawl over to his body. Lazar laughed again and kicked him in the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get away from that dirty thing, Dwitch. You’ll get worms,” Lazar said, voice near giddy. “Jonesy! Buck! You two, get the fuck over here and drag this body to the back. Ashley! Go to the store and buy… bleach! And other shit to clean up with. And you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nudged Dwight’s side with a heel. “Get up. And put your clothes on. We’re going for a drive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight shook his head. He wasn’t getting up. He refused to do anything this monster said. Jonesy and Buck were grabbing David’s arms. They were skinny, though, and had trouble lifting his body. Dwight yelled at them to let him go, angry, upset, sobbing. They kept their gazes down and away, but Jonesy had two streaks of tears running down his cheeks. Dwight didn’t understand why they were doing this. He didn’t realize he asked that aloud until he was being grabbed by Lazar and pulled to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They do what I say because I’m such a great leader,” Lazar crowed. “And also the fact that they’ve helped me cover up a body before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Black mail works wonders in the world of business, Dwitch! I’ll teach you all about that, don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! N-no!” Dwight started to struggle. He wanted to collapse. His throat ached. His heart hurt. He looked over at David’s body, seeing it throw Jonesy and Buck into the ground. <em>Wait… what? </em></span>
  <span>“David?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lazar’s head snapped to the side. Jonesy scurried away, while Buck held his hands over his head, staying down. David was up, alive and breathing, charging straight for Lazar. Dwight saw the holes in his shirt, but no blood. The bouncer slammed a fist into Lazar’s jaw. The man went down, face first, into his desk. Dwight fell to the side, but David caught him, quickly dragging him away from Lazar and out of his office. Dwight numbly let him, grasping at his shirt. David had to physically remove his fingers in order to place his oversized jacket on Dwight’s nude shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-thank-k you. Th-thank you, David. Oh god, thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Dwight. You’re okay now, just follow me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight started to cry again. This time in relief. He was so worn out. He wanted to collapse. He heard sirens in the distance. David was ushering him towards the front doors where they approached. He obviously didn’t trust any of the employees around them. Dwight didn’t either. He caught Ashley watching him from her office, face pale as she crouched behind her desk like she’d been hiding. Dwight quickly looked away before they could lock eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was a good thing Rose left Peak 22. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Dwight. We’ll get you to the hospital as soon as the police get here. Do you have anyone you want to call? I can call them for you if you need me to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t have anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David led him down the steps outside. “You have me. I’ll be here with you, okay? I won’t leave you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight could only nod, throat tight. David held him close to his side. He drew the jacket more securely around him. Dwight kept letting it slide down in his effort to stay holding onto his soulmate. His red line throbbed. Not with lust, or shame. But sheer, complete gratitude. Dwight had never had someone stand up for him like that. He couldn’t help but keep mumbling his thanks. David told him he was in shock and that he needed a doctor to look over him. He was especially worried about the bruising on his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David’s concerned words were like buzzing to his ears. He heard the police pull up. They’d take Lazar away, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-right?” He asked aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David’s face firmed “They are. He'll be gone. And even if he wasn't, he’s a coward, and he ain’t getting past me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight wasn’t sure if the words should comfort him or not. But David had just been shot twice, and was still standing, so he assumed he had a pretty good body guard. It was his work vest - a bullet proof vest that he’d needed more than once, having been hidden under his bulky jacket. Dwight touched it, as if in awe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have… you w-were so c-close to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David rubbed his shoulder. “I’m still here. I’m here, okay? Come on, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight let him lead him to the police cars. The red and blue lights nearly blinded him. They stung, adding to his layers of pain. An officer tried to take him but he recoiled, clinging to David. He stayed with him the whole time, like he promised. While Dwight was being patched up in the back of the ambulance, David spoke to a policewoman about the incident nearby. Dwight winced as a cut was cleaned and bandaged. He’d been given joggers and a tee. The employees of Peak 22 had been dragged out, one by one, and carted off. Dwight hadn’t looked up at them. David had stood in front of him as they passed, and talked to him about what he wanted for breakfast tomorrow morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight let out a strained chuckle. It hurt to laugh. He learned he had a broken rib. “I’ll still be in the hospital by then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you ain’t eaten that plastic crap. Whatever you want, wherever, I’ll order it for us. Same for tonight, we’ll have a little dinner date. Watch a movie. Just sleep, if ya need it. And I’ll stay up all night too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David…” Dwight began shakily, freezing up when he saw that the police were finally dragging Lazar from the building. David looked behind himself at the expression, glaring darkly at the man who was leering at them from between the cars. David blocked him from view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me, Dwight. He ain’t here. He’s going away to be booked and locked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight just nodded. But Lazar was… Lazar. He was a crafty, relentless bastard. David didn’t know him. But right now, Dwight just wanted to pretend that tonight never happened. At least until the police would question him about it, over and over, he was sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I-I w-want is for y-you t-to stay with me,” Dwight said, voice on the verge of tears. His stomach gave a growl. “...and… food s-sounds good too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David just smiled calmingly. “Whatever you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind them, Lazar was shut into a cruiser and taken away. Dwight had to pretend really hard he didn’t hear the squeal of the tires as they drove by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you… r-rub my knuckles?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thumb began to stroke his hand. Dwight leaned into David’s side while his arm was worked over. He finally closed his eyes, breathing in cologne and the feeling of safety. He wasn’t sure he’d ever really felt that in his life. But with David, he knew he truly had it. He thanked him once again, as he let himself doze off. His soulmate just hummed, careful not to wake him as he was instructed to climb in the back of the van. Dwight woke up, only half-way, as he was being moved. Before he fell under again, he saw the ugly blue walls of Peak 22, blocked off as the ambulance doors closed shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to sleep, Dwight. I’ll be here when ya wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dwight went to sleep. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Crystal Lake Killer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Big thank you to @WendigoHanni for this request! - “In a trial Dwight ends up getting taken by Jason Vorhees back to his realm. Jason has been fascinated and obsessed with his cute angelic face. He sorta is like a giant sweety to him. Since Dwight needs some type of good loving. Jason does surprise him with some crazy hot sex that blows his mind though.”</p><p>Jason needs to be added to the game, truly a tragedy he isn't :(</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This new killer had been with them for only a short while. His name was Jason Vorhees. He didn’t come with a new survivor. He appeared with only a new realm. One set by a misty lake and circled by cabins. Dwight had only heard of him from the other survivors. Horror stories of being cleaved in half or drowned. Dwight could only imagine how scary it was, until one day, he was finally summoned into his own trial at Camp Crystal Lake. </p><p>The camp had revealed a slasher-esque monster, complete with a hockey mask that looked like a ghost coming from the fog. His machete had dug into David’s shoulder before they even noticed he was there, too busy working on their gen.. Dwight had run off and hid in a locker. His heart rate was going wild. He hated new killers. They were surprises, and surprises always hurt a little more than expected. </p><p>He heard Claudette scream. Swallowing, he took that as his chance to escape and find another gen. But the killer had some kind of perk, and Dwight felt his whole body go rigged as he was exposed. It was a cold, dreadful feeling. He felt it the most around Michael Myers. Stalkers were the worst kind of trials. </p><p>But this killer wasn’t exactly a stalker. Jason didn’t hide or watch from afar. But he <em> was </em> increasingly relentless, always charging forward in long strides, seemingly appearing from nowhere and everywhere at once. Jason was more like a phantom. Never slowing down, never taking a break. </p><p>Dwight was stumbling through the overgrown grass at the base of the lake. David had been taken off his hook. There was a gen up ahead, lights flickering lazily in the pre-dawn light. But before Dwight could even reach the gen, he felt cold dread run through his body. He turned. Footsteps were crunching through the rocky sand. Jason was making a bee-line for him. The cleaver glimmered cruelly with fresh blood. Gen forgotten, Dwight ran like a frightened rabbit into the tree line. But the killer was gaining on him. Fast, too. </p><p>
  <em> That’s not possible!!  </em>
</p><p>Dwight’s mind was racing. Everytime he glanced over his shoulder, Jason was closer to him. But the killer was walking! It was like he was teleporting forward with every blink of the eye. Dwight was pushing everything he had into his sprint. So focused on his pursuer, he didn’t see the root curling out from the soil. His ankle twisted. Something popped inside his foot and he crashed into the ground with a desperate cry. He turned on his back, arm up, anticipating the bite of the blade. </p><p>There was only the faint sound of crows, and the heavy breaths of the masked man looming over him. Dwight gulped and stared. His arm shook in front of his face, aching with fresh cuts that left his skin smeared red. He shrieked when the killer suddenly knelt down and grabbed his wrist. His arm was yanked outward. The cuts stretched, burning, eliciting tiny whimpers from the survivor as Jason wiped a palm across them. Then, he grabbed a rag from his front pocket, and wiped away the excess blood. Dwight stopped struggling. He stared, a bit dumb-founded. It was almost like… the killer was caring for him… </p><p>But all the killers had weird quirks. The Clown took fingers. The Ghostface took photos. Maybe this guy liked arms and was just wanting his trophy in nice condition. </p><p>“W-w-what?-” Dwight couldn’t even get his full question out. He was yanked up to his feet. He screamed as his twisted ankle tried to settle. Jason tensed and grabbed at his waist, quickly hoisting him against his side. Dwight blushed fiercely as a second arm slid under his ass, holding him like a mother would a very young child. </p><p>“W-what-t a-are y-you d-doing?” Dwight stammered out, terrified. </p><p>Jason grunted. His grip tightened for a moment before they began to walk through the trees, back towards the still lake. Dwight’s hands began to push against Jason’s chest. The killer was stepping into the water. </p><p>
  <em> He’s.. he’s going to drown me!  </em>
</p><p>Dwight thrashed. He didn’t care if his ankle flared in white hot pain. He wanted out of here. Jason’s arms were vice-like though. Dwight sucked in a sharp breath as icy cold water lapped at his legs. He couldn’t breath. His lungs strained to gather enough oxygen to clear his panicking head. Dwight tried to crawl over the killer’s shoulder, to somehow tear himself free and swim to safety. David and Bill were at the shoreline, watching in confusion. Dwight called out for them. He saw Claudette come running through the treeline, just as David cursed something and dove into the lake. </p><p>Jason held him close to his chest before fully sinking under the surface. Dwight’s cry for help was choked off by a mouthful of water. It was so cold, it felt like it scorched his throat. He prayed that David’s hand would break through the murky chill and clasp his own. But it never came. He sank lower and lower, getting colder and colder. Dwight wasn’t breathing. He didn’t feel the need to take a breath anymore. His lungs felt… fuzzy. It was kind of scary, but the feeling spread to the rest of his body. Soon, he was unresisting, staring through the lake depths as Jason walked along its floor. </p><p>
  <em> Why am I not drowning? What’s going on?  </em>
</p><p>He had enough thought left to wonder what was going to happen to him. The creak of old metal, muffled but sharp enough to hear, cut through the water. Jason had kicked open a hatch at the bottom of the lake. Not unlike those used to escape. For a moment, Dwight thought he was being let go. Jason took a step forward, and fell straight through the black hole with Dwight in his arms. </p><p>Dwight screamed at the sensation of dropping, throat filling with water. Then he was coughing it up, gasping with the sudden and painful <em> needtobreathe. </em>He was on his hands and knees on wooden floorboards, a large hand stroking his back as he coughed. He shoved the hand away in fear. His knees and palms scraped the floor. His twisted ankle, which had been splitting with pain only seconds ago, suddenly felt fine. He was fixed. But he wasn’t back at the camp. </p><p><em> That wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. </em> He was going to be tortured, wasn’t he? Put back together just to be torn apart again! But… Jason didn’t do anything. He had crouched low, staring at Dwight with even, low breaths. The atmosphere was calm. It felt weird, to be in the presence of a killer with no red light or throbbing heartbeat. His own was more than making up for it, though. </p><p>“W-what a-a-are y-you g-going to d-do to me?” Dwight choked out. He was shivering from the bone-deep cold. Water had puddled underneath him. </p><p>Jason answered by holding out a hand. Dwight flinched. The hand paused, dropping a bit, palm open. Dwight stared at it, frightened. Jason crooked his fingers. Dwight still didn’t understand and he backed up until he hit the wall. He hadn’t really noticed before, but he was in some kind of cabin. With a large bunk in the corner, a desk, fireplace, and weapons lining the walls. They made him shake even more. The hand appeared in his line of vision. Dwight nearly jumped out of skin. Jason had drawn closer, and rested almost timid fingers on the survivor’s cheek. Dwight was too frozen in fear to react. Slowly, he cupped his face. A thumb stroked his lip. </p><p>“W-w-what..?” </p><p>Dwight finally reached up to grasp Jason’s wrist. The killer paused. But when Dwight only stared up at him, he continued to stroke. Dwight wasn’t sure if he should flee or not. Jason wasn’t angry right now. He hadn’t hurt him. But maybe he could be set off. Dwight didn’t want to make him upset. And the touch of a gentle hand was… kinda nice. </p><p>But after several seconds, it unnerved him. He tried to move out of Jason’s touch. It followed him. Jason fell to his knees, legs opening up to slink on either side of the survivor. He caged him in. Dwight tried to push him away but his arms were like jelly. Jason’s own, strong hands came up to cup Dwight’s face more firmly. The survivor blushed fiercely as his cheeks were squished, the killer leaning down as if to study him intently. He whined and tried to pull away. Jason loosened his hold, but his hands kept wandering. </p><p>Down. Down. Down to his shoulders. Down to his arms. They paused, hovering over his waist. Dwight looked up at the mask. The hands remained still. Jason made a small noise. It sounded not unlike a question. </p><p>“Are… are you asking…to t-t-touch there?” Dwight was embarrassed to ask. No way would a killer…</p><p>Jason nodded, slowly, as if worried he’d frighten his captive. Dwight was scared to say no. He was also, <em> kind of, maybe, perhaps, </em> a little hot from the touches. No one had ever touched him at camp. Friendly gestures, sure, but nothing sexual. Dwight’s mind blanked. How could he even know for sure that Jason… wanted <em> that? </em> His mind must still be on the fritz from that last Doctor match. He was even more sure of it when he gave a hesitant nod. </p><p>“Um… okay.”</p><p>Jason’s hands settled over his waist. They rubbed there a moment before slipping under his shirt. The touch was damp and cold, but the pleasurable tingles that followed more than made up for it. Thumbs flicked his nipples. It was soft, teasing, and made Dwight’s stomach flip-flop. He was now 100% sure that Jason wanted him like that. </p><p>“A-am I-I dreaming?” Dwight asked, covering his face. </p><p>The killer took his hand and gently lowered them. Dwight was a bit startled to see the mask pulled up halfway, a pair of blue, water-dead lips peeking from under. The lips were pulled up into a fond smile. It looked so human. So friendly. </p><p>No killer had ever looked at a survivor with anything but an intent to kill. He gasped as those lips fell into the crook of his shoulder. A tongue swiped over his skin. It left cool tingles flushing through his body, pooling in his lower gut. </p><p>He was dreaming for sure. </p><p>And he was hard as a rock. </p><p>He nearly screamed when a hand palmed his tenting pants. He humped into the touch, the shock of hot pleasure making him lose his mind for a few seconds. He knew, with 100% certainty, that The Doctor had fried his brain permanently. No one in their right mind would be grasping at the killer’s shoulders, opening their neck up for those cold lips that somehow felt like fire at the same time. Dwight moaned. The hand palmed him with more intent. Dwight grit his teeth against the roughness. It was making him light-headed, and yet, it wasn’t enough. </p><p>“J-jason, it feels so good,” Dwight breathed. “Oh god, it’s the best thing I’ve felt since being trapped here.”</p><p>The lips paused. He whined, as if it’d get them back to exploring his skin. Instead, Jason grabbed him around the waist. Dwight had only a moment to register that he was in the air before a mattress pressed into his back. Jason had shrugged off his sopping jacket. His shirt came off too, a scarred, ugly body beneath. At first, seemingly unattractive. But when the killer crawled over the top of him and Dwight pressed his hands over the flesh, the shift of muscle and tissue and the <em> godly heavy weight pressing into him, </em>had him opening his neck back up, begging for those undead lips to return to their work. Jason breathed heavily - wantingly - above him. It made his gut warm pleasantly, to be pinned and pleasured like this. </p><p>The killer kept his mask on, and Dwight was only slightly disappointed. To be honest, it turned him on quite a bit, that he was being taken by such a horrific monster. Like a damsel in distress, being ravaged by the creature from the Black Lagoon or something. </p><p><em> Oh dear lord, I’m fucked up. </em> Jason started on a hickey, hands unbuckling Dwight’s pants as he ground into his leg. <em> I don’t care. I really don’t fucking care.  </em></p><p>Dwight reached up to Jason’s face, cupping his jawline. Jason tensed and reached up to stop him. But Dwight didn’t touch his mask. He just held the killer still while he pressed in for a kiss. He felt the body above him go rigged, hands on his wrist letting go. Dwight desperately pecked and prodded at the unmoving lips. It seemed Jason had even stopped breathing. </p><p>“Jason, please~!” Dwight begged. “Let me- let me sit up. I want to t-touch you.”</p><p>It seemed to work. Life funneled back into his body. The bed squeaked. Dwight yelped as strong hands grabbed his hips. Jason rolled onto his back, up against the headboard. Dwight, legs straddling the killer, pressed up into Jason’s chest and reached up to resume their kiss. Jason squeezed his ass through his jeans as their tongues met. Dwight pushed back into him. In doing so, he slid along something long and hard. He gasped as Jason ground up to meet him. Electric sparks seem to run up and down his legs. </p><p>“Let me take off my pants,” Dwight said bluntly, bottom lip being nipped at. “I-I need to feel y-you fully.” </p><p>Jason’s hands fumbled where he’d only half undressed the survivor, helping him shuffle out of his clothes. Dwight was soon back on top, rubbing his bare ass along Jason’s cock. It twitched enticingly against his hole, the head catching his rim and sliding out before it fully penetrated. Dwight bit his knuckle, as if it’d help keep him grounded. They weren’t even to the good part and he was already falling apart. He felt like he could cum, his dick bouncing on his stomach, from the killer’s touch alone. </p><p>“F-fuck me!” Dwight said, hands roaming over Jason’s chest. “Please, I-I want you inside me, Jason!”</p><p>The killer grunted, hips rolling. One hand kept to Dwight’s waist while the other wandered beneath, to his large cock. He lined it up with the survivor’s hole and slowly eased his way inside. Dwight leaned down, grasping at Jason’s shoulders as he was impaled. It filled him painfully. But beneath that, twinges of need kept him pushing down. He pushed, teeth grit, until Jason was halfway inside. They both paused to stare at the other. Dwight gulped and gently lifted himself up. Slowly, he began to ride Jason. </p><p>Meanwhile, Jason’s hands rubbed inside of his thighs, light and teasing and sending pleasant tingles to his cock. Dwight moaned as those fingers played along his shaft. Jason was surprisingly gentle when he took it in his hand, stroking Dwight as the survivor rode the man whose job it was to kill his friends. He almost chuckled at how worried they must be, when really he was having the time of his life.  </p><p>It was weird how this realm had changed Dwight. In his old life, he’d never have concieved this as a thread of possibility. That he’d be clenching around a murderer’s cock with glee and half delirious with arousal. Jason’s heavy breaths and low groans were not helping the matter. Dwight bent down to catch those lips against his own. Jason bit his bottom lip, tugging him in eagerly. </p><p>“J-jason, please...” Dwight moaned. He didn’t know what he was asking for, just that he needed it. Jason seemed to understand fine. </p><p>He grabbed a hold of Dwight’s hips, broads hands encompassing his waist, before moving the survivor up and down. His hips thrust to meet Dwight’s ass, pounding into him. Dwight tried to match his pace and push back, but Jason was taking control, lifting himself up a little more so he could spin Dwight around. The survivor’s back pressed flush to the killer’s chest. </p><p>Hands trailed up his stomach and to his nipples, twisting them into puffy redness. Dwight arched into the touch. Breathy little moans escaped him. He whined every time that cock hit his prostate, massaging him in a carnal way he’d been denied for so long. Jason’s own breath coated the back of his neck. It grew more ragged the faster he went. Dwight wondered if it was in his head, but he swore he could hear his name in between those pants. He moaned Jason’s name back, asking for more, begging for it. Jason kissed his skin, letting his hands fall from his nipples to his neglected cock. It was straining against Dwight’s gut, begging for attention. Dwight squealed as a thick hand grasped it, jerking him off in time to each thrust.</p><p>“Y-yes! Yes, oh god, yes!” Dwight cried. He thought of nothing but Jason, and the warmth that the killer was flooding him with. It reached from the tip of the head to the bottom of his toes, making him quake. His body was flushed red when he came, shaking and teary-eyed with gratitude. His orgasm hit him like a freight train. Jason came inside him at the same time, stuttering to a halt and filling his insides. Dwight pushed back as much as he could, desperate to be filled up. </p><p>“Th-thank you! Oh fuck, thank you!” he rambled. </p><p>Jason’s lips pressed against the side of his face, peppering him with kisses as he rode through his own high. Dwight had never felt more satisfied in his life. He slumped bonelessly into Jason’s chest and moaned against those lips. He was shaky from the exertion. All he wanted to do was curl up and sleep, not even bothered by the sweat and cum sticking to his body. He pressed into Jason, struggling to turn so he could wrap his arms around the other. Jason eased him down onto his chest, holding him close as their breathing leveled out. Coherent thoughts began to make their way back into Dwight’s head. Thoughts that told him, this was a killer. A brute who hurt his friends. His instincts told him to run, scream, fight... anything else but hold him. </p><p>Instead, Dwight asked, “C-can… can we do that a-again… sometime?” </p><p>Jason grinned down at him, a smile that looked absolutely stunning on his dead, water-soaked face. He pressed his lips to Dwight’s, inviting the survivor in for another round. The Entity rarely gave him rewards, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t enjoying this one. Dwight eagerly met him halfway.</p>
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